Blank Slate
by Tom Dodger
Summary: Harry has managed to defeat Voldemort, but he hasn't survived unscathed. To the dismay of everyone but Harry, not only has he lost his memories, a few screws have been knocked loose, too.
1. Chapter One

**A/N **_This is a story that doesn't take itself too seriously, which means neither should you. Expect juvenile comedy, most of which is focused on sex. More specifically, the view teenagers have on sex. While there will be a sprinkling of drama throughout, it's meant to be a bit of fun, nothing more, nothing less. _

* * *

><p><strong>Blank Slate <strong>

**Chapter One**

Black smoke billowed from the empty window frames, creating a thick fog over the village of Hogsmeade, which blocked out the intense midday sun. The wooden shack creaked, its structure failing, seconds from collapsing altogether. The unnatural flames flared, stopping the few rescuers from gaining any ground.

A murmur spread through the last of the Order of the Phoenix. They had tried for an hour to get closer, using every spell and charm they knew, but nothing would allow them to save the boy inside the burning Shrieking Shack.

"There's nothing more we can do," said Alastor Moody, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Don't say that!" Hermione screeched, struggling and failing to free herself from Remus's strong grasp. "Don't even think it, just let me go and get him!"

"Hermione," said Ron, shaking his head and meeting her eyes. "There's nothing we can do."

"No, not you, Ron…"

"He's right," said Remus quietly.

Hermione opened her mouth, ready to retort, just as the Shrieking Shack exploded. The blast blew them all off their feet before they could react, but Hermione was standing in an instant, out of Remus's grasp and ready to run, but the devastation stopped her in her tracks.

The fire had disappeared as fast as it had appeared, and where the derelict building had once stood was now a blackened wasteland. Hermione stared, horrified, as her feet took her across the still smouldering timber. The explosion had ripped the shack to pieces, but bits of wood and plaster had created a scorched mountain of wreckage. Underneath it all was her best friend, Harry.

"Hermione, stop!" Ron ran to her, panting as he reached her side. "Remember, You Know Who is still here, too."

They worked fast and in silence to clear the debris, sweating and panting from the sheer heat, when Charlie Weasley gave a shout.

"I found a wand." Charlie held it above his head and all eyes were drawn to the white piece of wood.

"It's not Harry's," said Hermione, feeling hope swell in her stomach. She raised her voice. "It's Voldemort's. Maybe Harry got out!"

"Hermione," said Ron, shaking his head again. "If he got out, we would have seen him."

"Don't lose hope, Ron!" snapped Hermione.

She continued to work with renewed vigour, more determined than ever to find him. Harry would never lay down and die, she repeated to herself. He was the most determined person she had ever met. At times he infuriated her more than Ron did, and he terrified her with his recklessness … but that was just who he was. He was her best friend, and he was not dead!

"I've got him."

The words stopped Hermione short, and she whirled around to face Hagrid. The half-giant's hair had been burnt on one side of his skull, distorting his skin, but he was still working. His great strength meant he could move three times more than any of them, and he swatted aside a door, and there he was…

Harry Potter was on his side, clothes torn to shreds, but looking for all the world as though he was asleep. He even had a smile on his face, Hermione saw as she got closer. But as she reached his side she realised he hadn't escaped by incredible luck yet again. He wasn't breathing, and a pool of blood was forming like a halo around his hair.

In a matter of moments Harry was whisked away by someone – Hermione didn't see who – and her world seemed to shatter before her eyes. She'd had him back for one brief, glorious moment. Now his life was hanging in the balance and she wasn't going to leave his side for one second.

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><p>"I'm just going to pop to the bathroom for a second," said Hermione, slipping out of the door.<p>

Ron grunted as he watched her leave the private room, only to sigh as the door swung closed. He sat back in his chair and watched Harry's chest move rhythmically up and down … up and down … but his eyes had yet to open. It had been over a month now, since Harry had charged after Voldemort and somehow defeated him. Nobody but Harry knew how he'd managed it, but he wasn't awake to tell the tale.

"Look, I'm not being funny, mate, but wake up soon, yeah?" Ron winced at his own words. "Yeah, I suppose that won't work. How about if I offered you two naked veela? Oh, who am I kidding? You're Harry Potter! You could have hundreds of veela if you wanted! One for every day of the year!"

Ron sighed again when he saw no change in Harry.

"It was a good, if slightly worrying, attempt," said Hermione, re-entering the room. She suddenly paused at the end of Harry's bed, her eyes widening. She pointed a shaking hand at her friend. "He's waking up…"

"Wha—?" said Ron stupidly, nearly jumping onto his best friend's bed.

"He's waking up," repeated Hermione, disbelief colouring her voice. "He's waking up," she said again, her voice getting louder. "Ron, he's waking up!"

Ron winced. "Yes, I know," he ground out. "Call the healer or something, fast!"

The doors nearly exploded off their hinges as Hermione barrelled through them, shouting for help.

Ron turned to Harry, amazed to see his jaw moving from side to side. His cracked lips parted ever so slightly, and Ron leaned in to hear what he was saying.

"What were you saying about veela?"

Ron's jaw dropped and his eyebrows jumped into his ginger head of hair. "Blimey, mate! I was only joking."

For the first time in a month Harry opened his eyes just as Hermione entered the room once again, followed by a blonde healer in her mid-twenties.

"Harry!" shouted Hermione, looking like she was about to pounce on him, but only refrained from doing so by Harry's cringe.

The healer started to wave her wand all over his body, and her blue eyes locked on his. "Good morning, Mr Potter. It's nice to finally see those eyes I've heard all about."

Harry cracked a lecherous grin. "Stick around and get rid of these two stalkers," he said, jerking a thumb at the dumbstruck Ron and Hermione, "and I'll show you a hell of a lot more."

The silence was deafening, but Harry didn't appear to notice or care; he was too busy craning his neck to get a better look at his healer's arse.

"Harry!" Hermione crossed her arms and her lips thinned. "What do you think you're doing?"

Harry blinked at her and scratched his head, then understanding seemed to dawn on him. "Sorry about that," he said. Hermione was nodding in satisfaction when he added, "But you'll have to wait your turn."

Hermione and Ron goggled at him, but he completely ignored them, as he went back to trying to chat up his healer.

"So, what's your name?"

"You can call me Delia," said Delia, flashing him a bright grin, which made Hermione groan piteously and Harry laugh in delight.

"What time do you finish your shift?" asked Harry.

"Not until six, but I'm afraid you won't be going anywhere soon," said Delia sternly, but her strictness broke down at the pout on his face. "Don't worry, I'm sure it won't be for long."

"But I feel fine now!" insisted Harry. As if to prove his point he jumped out of bed, wearing only his bright smile. "See, fine!"

"Gah!" exclaimed Ron, turning away and throwing his hands over his eyes.

"Um, Harry…" Hermione politely averted her eyes. "You're, um, well."

"Naked, Harry," said Delia, licking her lips as she looked him up and down.

Harry looked down at himself. "Huh, so I am. How about, since I'm naked and all, you repay the favour…?"

A faint pink blush appeared on Delia's cheeks. "I didn't think you'd be so forward, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "If you're not going forwards, you're going backwards, and who the hell wants to go backwards?" He received strange looks. "Anyway, I think it's only fair if you hop out of that uniform—"

"Harry," interrupted a now bright red Hermione. "You can't just say things like that." She looked to Delia for help. "What's wrong with him?"

Delia raised an eyebrow. "You mean he wasn't like this before?"

"Of course not!"

"Oh," said Delia, eyeing Harry in concern. "If you would just get back into bed, Harry…"

Harry grinned triumphantly. "Certainly, Delia. You, redhead –" he pointed at Ron, " – get the hell out and leave us alone."

Ron mouthed wordlessly, his face turning a tomato red.

"Oh, it's worse than I thought," admitted Delia.

Hermione could only nod in agreement and hope her best friend could be fixed. Just what had happened in the Shrieking Shack that had sent him so … so … She eyed Harry nervously and felt like crying.

Ron and Hermione were forced to leave Harry, so tests could be performed, and they went straight to the Burrow to tell the Weasleys the news. They arrived through the fireplace and gathered in the kitchen, where everyone was already sitting at the table, about to have lunch.

"It's good and bad news," admitted Hermione, wringing her hands.

"Yeah, something like that." Ron felt like he'd been smacked in the face with a Confundus Charm. He was starting to wish he had been, just so everything could return to normal. "Harry's awake."

"He's what?" Molly jumped out of her chair, sending it flying into the cooker. "Why didn't you say anything sooner, Ronald! We have to go and see him."

"You can't," said Ron, holding his hands up to stop his mother's stampede. "We've just been kicked out of his room, so they can check him over. Listen, it's not, um, it's not great."

"What do you mean?" asked Molly fearfully.

"Harry's not quite himself right now." Hermione thought that was as delicate as she could put it.

"He's lost his bleedin' marbles, mum!" said Ron. "He called us stalkers!"

Hermione glared at him, but turned to the confused family and explained, "Harry's currently lost his memory." It didn't feel right saying he'd lost his _mind_, even if she was thinking it. "I don't know what he can remember, if anything, but it must be nearly all of his memories."

"Yeah," said Ron. "If he can't remember us, his _best friends_, who the hell will he remember?"

"Oh my," was all Molly could say, and suddenly uproar descended on the kitchen, as everyone shouted their questions over each other.

* * *

><p>"So, who were those two?" asked Harry, after Hermione and Ron had left. "I can't say I know them."<p>

Delia stared at him for a long moment, completely taken aback. "You don't remember them?"

"Remember them?" Harry snorted. "I've never seen them before in my life. Why? Should I know them?"

"Well…" Delia bit her bottom lip. "They are kind of your best friends."

Harry laughed uproariously.

"I'm serious, Harry," said Delia. Her words didn't sober him up any, so she waited until his laughter stopped. "Just allow me to check for something, please. If you'd just lay still."

Harry did as he was told, feeling thoroughly amused at the thought of being best friends with people he'd never met.

Delia pointed her wand at his skull and muttered some words under her breath. Her eyes grew wider with every second, and then she swallowed thickly.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, Mr Potter, but I'm afraid you—"

"Have I lost my memory?" asked Harry bluntly.

Delia stared at him in disbelief. She'd encountered patients losing their memories before, and it usually involved uncontrollable sobbing or complete denial, but this was different.

"I'm afraid you have," said Delia, just waiting for the crying to start.

"Huh," said Harry, shrugging. "Oh well, what can you do? Now, seeing as I can't remember a damn thing, how about you and I create my very first memory?"

Delia just stared. She couldn't believe he'd just accepted the loss of his memories without a thought, and in the very next second he started chatting her up. It wasn't right.

"What are we going to do with you, Mr Potter?" At Harry's grin, she waggled her finger in his face. "Don't even answer that."


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Harry wasn't sure if he'd ever longed for peace and quiet before his memory loss, but he was longing for it now. Hermione and Ron had come back just after he'd had his dinner, and ever since he'd had visitors. They each came into his room smiling nervously, but left looking thoroughly confused. He consoled himself with the fact that at least he wasn't bored out of his skull.

The first visitor had been a woman named Molly Weasley – Ron's mother. She was quite a plump lady, who'd immediately started crying when she saw him.

"Oh, Harry…" Molly had sobbed, and flung her arms around his shoulders.

It had only gotten more awkward from then onwards.

A pair of identical twins had burst through the doors with big grins, immediately telling Harry how good he was at flying. Then they started telling him about how good they were at flying, and all about their genius inventions. They'd only laughed when Harry mentioned he wouldn't mind buying some of their products.

Hermione had glared daggers at them until they left.

"They seemed nice," Harry had said, which had been a mistake. He'd received a five minute lecture on how they'd dropped out of school and were wasting their talents on silly pranks. By the time she was finished, he was starting to wish he was still in a coma.

From there, Harry had been forced to endure the most awkward conversation of his life (which wasn't saying much considering he couldn't remember anything) with Ginny Weasley. She mentioned something about once having a crush on him.

Then he'd spoken with Ron's older brother, Charlie, who Harry immediately liked. He admitted he didn't know Harry very well, as he worked with dragons in Romania. Harry had the shock of his life when he was told he'd once out flown a dragon, and was starting to wonder if he was being pranked.

Harry had just about thought the torture was over, when Hermione announced that he still had two more visitors.

"It's my other brother, Bill, and his girlfriend, Fleur," said Ron.

"Another brother?" Harry snorted. "Haven't your folks ever heard of birth control? How often do they go _at_ _it_?"

Ron didn't quite know what to say to that, but Hermione did. "How on earth do you know what birth control is when you don't even know your own mother's name?"

The doors opened again, and Harry sat bolt upright when his eyes landed on her. He hardly noticed Bill walking by her side, and he guessed most people would have the same problem. He remembered what Ron had said about veela, and he knew without doubt that veela blood was somewhere in Fleur's lineage. Her hair was a silvery white and effortlessly styled over her shoulders, resting against pale blue robes. Her eyes were the deepest blue he'd ever seen, although he hadn't seen many eyes, and her skin was a creamy, unblemished shade of perfect white.

"Holy fuck," breathed Harry. "Can I take you home with me?"

Everyone was aware Harry was nearly drooling, including himself. Bill merely raised an eyebrow, but Fleur seemed politely amused.

"You done hitting on my girlfriend, Potter?"

"Hell no," said Harry. "I could dedicate my entire life to creating the most perfect, beautiful woman, and it still wouldn't compare."

"Well," said Bill, unsure how to act, "I think I'll take that as a compliment."

"As will I," said Fleur, eyeing Harry with interest.

"French, too," said Harry. "That's even more perfect."

Hermione had her head in her hands. "I'm so sorry, Fleur, Bill. I should have warned you."

Bill laughed it off. "That's quite all right. I imagine it's all a bit of a shock, eh, Harry?"

Harry completely ignored the question and asked one of his own. "How the hell did you manage to pull the hottest woman I've ever seen?" he demanded. "And please, for the love of God, can you teach me how to do it?"

"I – what?" Bill stumbled over the words. "Merlin, Harry."

Bill and Fleur left the room, more confused than anyone else had been. Ron groaned loudly as soon as the doors shut.

"I can't believe him," he said. "The first thing he does when he wakes up from being in a coma for a month is chat up the healer, and now he hits on my brother's girlfriend?"

Ron looked close to laughing his head off, but Hermione wasn't amused. In fact, judging by how red her face was, the poor girl was moments away from breaking down.

"So, tell me more about this Hogwarts business," said Harry. "Ginny mentioned it earlier."

"Oh no, I didn't think of that," Hermione mumbled, looking terrified. How would they cope a year of Hogwarts with Harry in the state he was in?

"Let's not talk about that now," said Ron, seeing Hermione was starting to work herself up. "Say, can you remember how to play chess?"

"Nope!" said Harry cheerfully. "How hard can it be?"

Hermione whimpered in her seat, but Ron looked positively gleeful.

"Don't worry, mate, I'll show you the basics."

"Does it include veela?" asked Harry hopefully, and Hermione whimpered again.

* * *

><p>Harry said goodbye to Delia and St. Mungo's the next morning, which surprised him. For one thing, didn't he have a brain injury? He'd asked that very question, but Delia had informed him there was nothing he could do but hope the memories would return.<p>

The second thing that worried him was the fact he had no idea where he lived. Hermione had mentioned something about him growing up with his aunt and uncle, but apparently he hated them, they hated him, and so it was decided he was going to live with Ron in the Burrow for a month.

"Where's my wand?" asked Harry. Ron passed it to him and Harry inspected it closely, noting it was slightly scorched but otherwise intact. "You say you've got to be seventeen to perform magic outside of school, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned. "Yes…"

"And how old am I?"

"You turned seventeen just last week — oh no you don't." Hermione plucked the wand from Harry's grasp before he could utter a spell. She looked mightily alarmed at the thought of him performing magic. "You won't be using this until you've proved you know what you're doing."

Harry scowled at the girl. "Did you and I ever go out? Because you're acting like a nagging bloody girlfriend right now!"

Hermione harrumphed but said nothing, which just made Harry believe something must have happened between them.

"We've got a Portkey set up for you, mate," said Ron, holding up a rubber duck. "Dad had it made in the Ministry."

"Well, let's get it over with," said Harry.

They each placed a finger on the rubber duck and were whisked away, landing on a grassy hill. The sun was shining brightly overhead and the fresh air filled Harry with joy. The walk down the hill took them to the Burrow, and it was here Harry paused.

"It looks like it's going to collapse," he said, eyeing the house nervously.

Hermione and Ron eyed each other guiltily. They hadn't told him how he'd lost his memories yet, although he hadn't asked, either.

"It's perfectly safe," said Hermione.

"Yeah, it's held up with magic, see," added Ron.

"Hmm," said Harry. "Was I in a collapsed building before now? I have this awful sense of déjà vu."

Ron shuffled his feet. "Something like that, mate. We'll tell you about it later."

Harry was dragged into the house and was surprised to find it empty. He looked left and right, to the kitchen and living room, expecting someone to jump out at any moment. Ron and Hermione watched him curiously.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"Haven't you thrown me a get well and surprise birthday party?" Harry shrugged in disappointment. "I guess we weren't the best of friends like I've been told. Now, where's my bedroom? I need to dump this." He lifted up backpack. "And who's cooking? I'm starving!"

Ron mouthed 'surprise party?' at Hermione, but she shook her head.

"Go and show Harry to his room, Ron," instructed Hermione. "Then how about we go to Diagon Alley for something to eat? We can tell you some more about your life there, Harry."

"Sounds good to me," said Harry and he followed Ron up the creaking stairs. He was sure the roof would fall on top of him in his sleep, but Ron had seemed quite insulted when he'd mentioned it before, so he didn't say anything.

Harry was given Fred and George's old room, which he would be using until he went back to Hogwarts. Ron warned him to be on the lookout for any leftover pranks, which just excited Harry.

Hermione decided it would be best to use the Floo Network to take them to Diagon Alley, and she went through the green flames first.

"So, what's her deal?" asked Harry, just before he was going to leave.

"She's been our best friend for the last six years," admitted Ron, looking conflicted.

"Do you fancy her?" asked Harry bluntly. The tips of Ron's ears burned red, which was enough of an answer. "Fine," said Harry, "I'll let you have her."

Funny, Harry thought as he was sent barrelling through the fire, his answer had only seemed to upset Ron even more.

Harry was sent crashing into a table as he tumbled out of the fireplace. A few people looked his way, shaking their heads.

"Are you okay?" asked Hermione, appearing quite amused at his misfortune.

Harry stood up and dusted himself off. "Oh yeah, I fall out of fireplaces for fun all the time, you know. Now, who's buying the first drink? I'll have something strong and stiff, like myself."

Hermione's lip curled in disgust and she shook her head of bushy brown hair. "We really need to work on your tact, Harry."

Harry would have replied, but Ron suddenly shot out of the fireplace and completely flattened him. They went arse over tit over a chair and Harry ended up staring right into Ron's left nostril.

"I hope that's your wand in your pocket, Ron," said Harry, squirming from under Ron's heavy frame.

"It was!" Ron was very red in the face as he jumped to his feet.

"Let's go," said Hermione, spinning on her heel and leading them out of the pub. They came to a wall and she tapped a few bricks with her wand in an obvious pattern, and then the wall opened up into a winding alley. Hermione turned to Harry expectantly. "Well, what do you think?"

Harry couldn't stop grinning. "Holy shit, would you look at her?"

"What?" asked Hermione, perplexed.

"Blonde hair, older than what I'd usually go for, but damn! I think she's another veela!" Harry strode down the alley, intent on introducing himself.

"Oh God," said Hermione as she saw who he was heading towards. She and Ron scurried after their friend. "Harry, stop!"

Harry ignored her. He finally reached the blonde woman and gave her his best smile, which she recoiled from. "Hi, I'm Harry. May I just say—"

"Harry," hissed Hermione, clamping a hand over his mouth. She looked awkwardly at Narcissa Malfoy. "Um…"

A wide-eyed Narcissa hurried away without saying a word and Hermione sagged in relief. Ron was openly laughing.

"Harry, please, _please_ try to act normal!" begged Hermione.

Harry wasn't listening, though. "Hermione!" he whined. "I was in with a chance there!"

Ron guffawed. "Oh, mate. This is great! Don't you know who she is?"

Hermione looked at him like he was stupid. "Of course he doesn't, you idiot!"

"Oh yeah…" said Ron sheepishly.

"Wait," said Harry nervously. "She's not forty is she?"

Hermione slapped a hand to her forehead. "Harry, you killed her husband three months ago!"

"Huh," said Harry with a shrug. "Even more reason for me to talk to her, then. You know, I can console her, maybe offer a warm embrace."

Hermione looked like she was going to be sick.

"Maybe we should go home," suggested Ron, eyeing Harry like he was crazy. "Before he starts a riot or something."

"But we've just got here," complained Harry, when he spotted the brightest shop in Diagon Alley. His eyes lit up. "I want to go there."

Hermione and Ron whipped around to see where he was pointing and dread filled each of them.

"Oh no," said Hermione in dawning horror, but it was too late; Harry was already striding towards Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Joke Shop. She turned to Ron in despair. "What are we going to do with him?"

Ron shrugged helplessly. "I say we sit back and enjoy the ride, and maybe do damage control before things get out of hand."

"Try not to let him out of either of our sights," instructed Hermione. "Who knows what he'll do otherwise."

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "That'll be difficult in the castle. Let's just hope Hogwarts is still standing by the time we graduate."


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

"You're a werewolf!"

Remus shuffled his feet, unsure how to respond. He started and stopped a few times before he said, "I am."

Harry lips split into a grin. "That's awesome! Wait until I'm back at Hogwarts, so I can learn how to become an Animagus, and we can have some adventures on the full moon."

Remus blinked in a somewhat dazed state. When he'd heard Harry had finally woken up from his coma, he'd been ecstatic, but then he'd been told about the loss of memory. He'd feared the worst, thinking Harry would retreat into himself, become depressed and antisocial, but that wasn't the case. If anything, the complete loss of all his memories had made Harry into someone completely new. Gone was the quiet, almost shy teenager, replaced with a young man who knew no limits or discretion. It was enough to make Remus' head spin.

They were in the Burrow's living room. The Weasley's had given them some privacy and were in the garden, preparing it for the night's dinner outside.

"Harry," said Remus hesitantly. "If you can't remember anything, how will you learn to become an Animagus? It isn't something that you can do with a wave of your wand – it's not that simple."

Harry scoffed and waved his worries away. "You underestimate me, Remus. Just you wait."

Remus nodded uncertainly. Perhaps it was worse than he'd first feared – maybe Harry had become delusional, thinking himself capable of great feats when he actually knew less magic than a first year.

"If you need help this year, Harry, I'll be going back and forth to Hogwarts from time to time," said Remus. Minerva had asked him to come back as soon she'd heard the news. Harry needed him, she'd said, and he fully agreed.

"Tell me," said Harry, waving a hand between them, "how do we know each other? Hermione mentioned something about my father, but I've kind of stopped listening to her when she drones on. She doesn't half talk a lot, I tell you. I've been thinking about creating a charm that plays music only the caster can hear, but keeps the right expression on your face. Hey!" Harry smiled brightly. "Maybe the twins will be able to create it! I'll ask them later; they're coming over for dinner."

Remus couldn't stop gaping. He shook his head and moved his jaw to get it working. "I was best friends with your dad, yes," he said finally, deciding to ignore everything else Harry had said.

"Do you like beer?" asked Harry suddenly.

Remus blinked again. "Um, yes."

"Then follow me," said Harry, jumping out of the chair.

Remus followed his best friend's son up the stairs, and he couldn't help but think Harry had actually gone mad. He skipped between subjects without even bothering to acknowledge they'd been talking about something else, his smile never seemed to waver, and … well … he was acting rather bizarrely.

Harry ushered Remus into his bedroom, and Remus stopped in surprise. There was a pool table sitting in the middle of the room, and an ice box on the windowsill, which was overflowing with bottles of beer.

"Harry, where did you get this?" asked Remus, running his hand along the red cloth of the table and picking up a pool cue. "It must have cost you a bit of money, too!"

"Got it in Diagon," said Harry dismissively, taking two beers out of the ice box, one of which he passed to Remus. "Bloke in the shop said I could have it for free because I defeated Voldemort or something."

Remus looked at him in amazement. "Someone just gave you a pool table?"

"Oh no, this was something Arthur found through work," said Harry as he racked up the balls. "Some wizard cursed it—" he started giggling, "—so every time a Muggle took a shot, the pockets would jump out of the way!"

Harry guffawed, but Remus simply smiled. "Then how are we going to play?"

"Oh, don't worry, Arthur cancelled the charm," said Harry. He took a sip of his beer and gestured to the pool table. "It's working fine now. Go on, you can break."

Remus bent down, lined up the cue, and shot. The balls scattered, but nothing went down any of the table's six pockets. Remus got up as Harry prepared to take his first shot, and he took a look around the room.

"Where did you the speakers from?"

Harry glanced at the wall, where a set of speakers were sitting on a shelf. "They're Fred and George's, but they said I could keep them."

Harry potted one red, but he missed his second. Remus chalked his cue and got down to play.

"So tell me," said Remus, pausing to hit the cue ball. It hit the yellow, sending it into the middle left pocket. "How have you been handling things? You seem to be doing great."

Harry nodded in agreement. "The only thing that could make it better is if Fleur would come over. I've been thinking about inviting her to a game of pool the next time I see her."

Remus hid his amusement well. "Harry," he said, "you know she's going out with Bill."

Harry pouted. "Do you know if she has a sister?"

"She does, but she's far too young for you."

"How old is she?" demanded Harry in a loud enough voice that Remus jumped and accidentally hit the white ball before he meant to, sending it crashing into the pack of balls.

"She's fifteen," said Remus.

"Fifteen, eh?" Harry snorted and got down to take his shot. "When is she sixteen?"

"I don't know," admitted Remus, watching Harry sink another red. A second later he potted another one.

Remus sipped his beer, feeling a bit better about things. Hermione had mentioned there was no getting through to Harry, but maybe, Remus thought, this was just who Harry was now. It was about becoming familiar with him again, just as Harry was becoming familiar with them.

"If I can't find a veela," said Harry, "I suppose I'd settle for a Metamorphmagus."

Remus choked on his beer and violently spluttered.

* * *

><p>Harry was half asleep, wishing he had his wand so he could drown out the racket the birds were making. The sun was shining through the window, which meant another lovely summer's day had arrived.<p>

The door opened and Fred and George walked in.

"Hey, Harry," said George loudly, and he gave a flick of his wand. The blanket covering Harry suddenly came to life, tied him up into a tight ball, and hovered above the pool table.

Fred whistled through his teeth as he looked around. "Love what you've done with the place, Harry."

"I couldn't agree more," said George.

Harry could only wonder what had just happened. He thought maybe this was the way Fred and George always treated him, so he went along with it.

"Help yourselves to a beer," offered Harry. "I would get it for you, but I appear to be hovering in the fetus position."

"Later, Harry," said Fred. "Now get your skinny arse dressed and join us outside for a game of Quidditch. It's about time we see if you can still play."

The twins left without saying another word, and Harry landed with a thump on the pool table. Thankfully it didn't collapse. After untangling himself and finally getting dressed, he wandered downstairs and found the clan of Weasley's eating breakfast. Sadly, Fleur hadn't come over for breakfast.

"Help yourself, dear," said Molly over her shoulder, from where she was frying bacon.

"I had the weirdest dream," announced Harry as he sat down. Everyone turned to him expectantly; some of them even looked nervous. "There I was, minding my own business, when some guy named Cedric pops out of nowhere and gives me his blessing to go out with his ex-girlfriend." Harry snorted, missing the astonished looks he was receiving. "I said to him, I don't need any help in that department, thank you very much, and certainly not from a pretty boy like you."

Hermione's hands flew to her mouth as she gasped. "Do you know what this means, Harry? Your memories are returning."

Harry suddenly became white as a sheet. "Wait, is Cedric real? Did he really give me his blessing?"

"Nah, mate," said Ron, shaking his head, "he's dead."

A collective wince spread around the table at Ron's bluntness, but Harry sagged in relief.

"Oh, thank fuck for that," he said, to Molly's admonishment, which he ignored. "I thought for a moment I'd been in a threesome with another guy." He shivered violently.

As one, everyone stopped eating, including Ron.

Hermione gently put down her fork. "Thank you very much of that image, Harry."

Harry bit into a sausage. "So, Bill," he said, and the man in question grimaced. "Where's the lovely Miss Delacour today?"

"Quidditch!" shouted Ron, and he dragged Harry into the garden before he could start an argument.

A number of the Weasley brothers joined them, while Hermione wandered outside with her nose in a book, claiming she was researching something or other.

"Let's pick captains," said Ron.

"Before we do, can someone tell me what Quidditch is?" asked Harry. He received astonished looks from everyone but Hermione, but that was only because she hadn't heard him. "What?" he defended himself. "I have lost my bloody memories you know!"

Charlie chuckled into his hand. "Sorry, Harry. I thought Ron would've told you all about it by now."

"I did!" said an indignant Ron.

Harry nodded in agreement. "He did, but Hermione was wearing a low-cut blouse and I kind of got distracted. You know how it is."

Hermione sniffed and pressed her nose deeper into her book. Fred and George laughed heartily.

"Right," said Ron slowly. "You can play Seeker, Harry. Just catch the Snitch, okay?"

Harry looked at the Snitch Ron was holding between his forefinger and thumb and nodded. "How hard can it be?"

"Yeah, it's always been easy for you," said Ron. "Bill and Charlie, you be captains."

"Then I choose you, Harry," said Bill immediately. "I don't care if you don't know the rules," he said to the surprised looks. "You didn't know how to play in your first year from what Ron told me, so I'm sure you've still got it."

"I guess that leaves me with you then, Ron," said Charlie.

"Fred," said Bill.

The game started, but Harry wasn't all that sure what he (or anyone else) was doing. There were two hoops, one each on opposite sides of the small field they were on, and Ron, Bill, and the twins were throwing a red ball between themselves, which they tried to get into the hoops. Charlie was a Seeker, too, which Harry discovered was all about aimlessly flying around.

Halfway through the game, Harry spotted the Snitch. He immediately chased after it, surprised to find it was faster than he'd thought.

"Go on, Potter!" cheered Bill.

Harry stretched out his arm, startled when Charlie bumped him, when a flash of silvery blonde hair caught his eye. He looked down and saw Fleur speaking to Hermione. Harry immediately abandoned the chase for the Snitch.

"You can have it, Charlie," said Harry, diverting his broomstick towards the ground.

"What's he doing?" howled Bill, but it soon became obvious to them all.

"Hey, Fleur," said Harry, hovering in front of the woman, "do you fancy a ride on my—"

"Harry!" said an alarmed Hermione. "Please don't finish that sentence."

Fleur frowned and scrunched up her nose as she tried to work out what he had been about to say, which in Harry's mind made her look adorable.

"Hermione," growled Harry, "will you please stop taking all the veela away from me!"

"I'm so sorry, Fleur … Fleur?"

Hermione and Harry looked around, but Fleur had already left.

"That's your fault," said Harry, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hermione straightened her back, looking appalled.

"My fault?" she demanded.

Harry nodded sulkily and wandered into the house. As soon as Fleur saw him she jumped out of her chair and disappeared up the stairs.

"What's gotten in to that girl?" Molly wondered aloud.

"French chicks," said Harry, shaking his head. "Beautiful, but barmy."


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

"Whoa! Watch where you're swinging that thing, Ron. You could have had my eye out."

Ron paused what he was doing and looked at the pool cue in his hand. He dearly hoped nobody was eavesdropping on them – Merlin knows what they'd think!

He was in Fred and George's old room, attempting to help Harry pack his trunk, ready for the train journey to Scotland in the morning. The problem was, Harry was refusing to do any work. He'd made some excuse about not being able to use his wand and was now lying back on his bed, arms crossed behind his head, sipping from a bottle of beer.

Harry also wanted to pack everything, including the pool table and ice box, and was directing Ron around the room like he was a house-elf. Ron was forced to grit his teeth and wonder why he hadn't told his best friend to bugger off already.

"Are you sure you need to take this?" asked Ron yet again, eyeing the pool table. No matter how many times he tried, he simply couldn't wrap his mind around the rules of the game. Even worse, he didn't have a clue how Harry understood how to play, seeing as he'd lost all his memories. It just didn't make sense to him. "We'll have Quidditch at Hogwarts, mate, and we'll be so bogged down by homework we probably won't even have time to play."

Harry made a shooing motion with his hand. "Don't worry, Ron, you'll soon learn to love the game." He took another sip of beer. "You said we sleep in a dormitory with three other guys, right? We'll put this bad boy in the room, so it doesn't feel so gay, you know? If anyone asks, we'll just call it male bonding time."

"Right…" said Ron, not really understanding any of that, but he didn't understand Harry at all these days.

A month had passed since Harry had been released from St. Mungo's, but Ron wondered how he'd even been released in the first place. Harry was as insane as ever. His mother hated him using that word – insane – but Ron felt it was the perfect word to describe Harry nowadays.

He wasn't a crackpot like Dumbledore had been, nor was he a raving lunatic like Voldemort … no, Harry had a unique brand of nuttiness. Tactless and blunt, it was as though he didn't have a filter between his brain to his mouth. Talking to him always proved to be difficult; if Harry didn't like the topic of conversation, he'd change it without warning. If that wasn't enough, it was as though he was constantly thinking about sex.

Another thing Ron simply couldn't fathom was Harry's constant cheerful mood. He'd dealt with Harry's tempers tantrums over the years, but his new happy-go-lucky attitude was really starting to get on his nerves.

All in all, it was enough to drive Ron mad.

"If I could just have my wand back," bemoaned Harry. "But no, Hermione bloody insists I need to be assessed first. Do you know what she needs?" He looked at Ron hopefully. "That girl needs a good old fashioned shag."

Ron forced himself not to say anything he'd regret. He concentrated with everything he had and managed to shrink the pool table so it fit inside Harry's trunk. The ice box was already packed away, along with Harry's clothes, books, and all his other possessions.

"So," said Harry, giving Ron one of his sinister grins. That's what Ron liked to call it anyway, because it usually meant he was about to say something that made Ron want to crawl into a deep hole and never come out. "Have you and Hermione done the dirty yet?"

Once again, Ron tried not to wish his best friend was still in hospital.

"You know she doesn't fancy me, Harry," Ron said through gritted teeth. It was a sore topic with him, which Harry knew, but that didn't stop him bringing it up. "I used to think she might," Ron admitted in a rare moment of honesty. He sat down on the edge of Harry's mattress. "But she told me last night she didn't think we'd ever work out."

"I imagine if you two ever got married, you'd have to have marriage counselling every other weekend."

"Do you like her?" Ron decided it was best to be blunt.

"Hermione's the type of girl you'd settle down with," said Harry. He didn't even ponder the question, which lead Ron to think he'd already given the matter quite some thought. "You know, she's the girl you marry, have babies with, the whole shebang. You could do far worse. But fuck, Ron, I'm seventeen. I don't even want to think about all that crap until I'm forty. I want to live, mate. I want to see the world."

Ron frowned. "So, is that a yes or a no?"

"I'll tell you in twenty years," said Harry. "Let's wait and see how well her tits hold up first. Don't even get me started on Ginny. I bet she's a little firecracker in the bedroom, all red hot lust and animalistic desire, but in twenty years? She might look like Molly, and who the hell wants that?"

Ron refused to let his anger overcome his common sense – so he blinked, stood up, and walked out of the room without saying a word. He understood why Hermione sometimes felt like crying now.

Back in the bedroom, Harry was staring at the door which Ron had quietly closed as he walked out. "What a funny fellow," he muttered to himself. "Poor bloke probably can't handle his drink."

* * *

><p>It was the big day.<p>

The day Hermione had been dreading for a month had finally arrived. For the first time she could remember, she was glad of the Weasley's notoriously poor time-keeping. She knew Harry would encounter the rest of the student body sooner rather than later, but she hoped that being late would mean there wouldn't be any dawdling.

They'd gotten through breakfast without any trouble, thanks to Mrs Weasley making enough food for Harry to ignore everyone else and concentrate on eating. But now they were standing at the fireplace, ready to Floo to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and Hermione had never been more nervous.

Harry was grinning from ear to ear. "Well? What are we waiting for?"

Ron stepped forward, offering Hermione a comforting smile. It didn't work. The fire flared green as Ron disappeared, and Harry went a second later, followed by Hermione. It was the first time Molly wasn't going with them, having said her goodbyes earlier.

Hermione stepped out on to the platform, the sun bright in her eyes, and saw Ron hurrying Harry on to the train. She sighed, relieved. Step one was complete. She rushed to catch up with them, not stopping to speak to anyone.

Ron had managed to find an empty compartment near the front of the train. It was where the younger years usually sat, and Hermione suspected Ron had thrown some poor first year out, but she wasn't going to complain.

Hermione was tense as they waited for the Hogwarts Express to start, but it pulled out of the station uneventfully. Now came the moment she was dreading. She stood up, already dressed in her robes, Head Girl badge gleaming.

"Where are you going?" asked Ron.

"I'm Head Girl, Ron," said Hermione exasperatedly. She glanced warily at Harry, who was staring out of the window, a bored look on his face. In her mind, the thought of leaving him in Ron's hands was as good as leaving him unattended.

"Oh," said Ron, frowning. His eyes flickered to Harry, obviously thinking along the same lines as she was. "Please don't be long."

The pleading look in his eyes would have amused her before, but it only made her anxious now. "I'll be as fast as I can," she promised, hoping her voice wasn't betraying her nervousness.

Hermione was halfway out of the door when Harry suddenly said, "Wait. I didn't know you were Head Girl. Why didn't you say anything before?"

Hermione was speechless for a moment, appalled that he didn't know. "I did tell you!"

"Did you?" asked Harry, frowning. "I can't remember that."

Hermione huffed. "Well, I did."

Harry's eyes raised to the ceiling, and his nose scrunched up. Hermione waited impatiently for him to remember.

"It was the day we had our letters," she reminded him.

"Aha!" Harry's eyes lit up, but Hermione's hopes that he actually did remember were dashed when he added, "That was the day you wore those tight shorts, wasn't it? You should wear them more often; your arse looked great."

Hermione was struck speechless for the second time in as many minutes. She tried to control her rising ire, reminded herself that she should be used to Harry's new personality by now, but it didn't stop the low growl escape her lips.

Harry got a mischievous look on his face. "Say, does this mean you'll be getting your own private bedroom? Perhaps we can put your new title of _Head _girl to good use."

Ron stared at him, wide-eyed, and Hermione's lips parted, which was a mistake.

"Yes, just like that!" crowed Harry gleefully.

Ron looked faintly green and his lips moved for a second with any sound coming out, until he managed to get out, "Just go, Hermione. I can handle him."

Hermione dearly hoped he could. She would be stuck in the meeting for most of the train ride, and who knew how much chaos Harry could cause in those few hours.

The compartment door closed as Hermione left, and Harry turned to Ron. "Well, what do we usually do on the way to Hogwarts?"

"Not much," admitted Ron, shrugging. "We used to play some chess, but you hate that now."

Harry didn't say anything for a while. He stretched out his legs and twiddled his thumbs as he looked around the compartment, obviously trying to think of something to do. Finally, he stood up.

"I'm as bored as a monk in a brothel," he declared. "Come on, let's go exploring."

Harry was out of the compartment before Ron could even get a word out, and he scrambled out of his seat to follow him. Harry was striding down the corridor, peering into every compartment as he passed.

"It's just a train, Harry," said Ron, furiously trying to think of a way to stop him going any further. "There's nothing exciting happening here."

Harry scoffed at that. "It's a train chock-a-block full of teenagers, Ron. There has to be something going on here."

Ron continued trying to stop him, but it was no use. They reached the back of the train, where most of the older students were sitting. Before Ron could stop him, Harry pulled a door open and strode inside a compartment.

"Hello, ladies," he said, smiling brightly.

"Potter!" Seamus Finnigan jumped to his feet in surprise.

Along with Seamus, the compartment was filled by his best friend, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, and the Patil twins.

"All right, Irish?" Harry greeted Seamus. "Don't mind if we join your little party, do you?" He turned to Ron and said, in a loud voice, "Hey, do you know if there's such a thing as Indian veela?"

Ron winced, trying to apologise to Parvati and Padma with his eyes, but he didn't see the anger he expected from them. They were looking shocked, but if anything, they radiated happiness.

"Not that I know of," said Ron through gritted teeth.

"Well, there must be," said Harry, grinning lewdly at Patil twins. "You have to be Indian veela. You're too perfect not to be."

The girls giggled. Ron couldn't believe what Harry was saying, and nor could he believe the girls were eating it up.

"Budge up," said Harry, plonking himself in the non-existent gap between the twins. Dean was forced off the end of the seat. "Now that Hermione's not here to stop me, maybe I can finally get somewhere."

"I'm sorry." Ron felt it needed to be said. "You probably know he lost his memory. Well, as you can see, the accident changed him. He still can't remember anything."

Parvati completely ignored Ron. She was intently gazing at Harry and nibbling on her bottom lip, as though she was seconds away from pouncing on him then and there.

"Come on, Harry," said Ron again.

"He's staying with me," said Parvati in a low voice.

Harry leant in to kiss her, when the compartment door was flung open. Draco Malfoy stopped short at seeing the position Harry was in, but quickly shook off his surprise.

"I hear you've lost your mind, Potter," he drawled, but his usual smirk looked fixed and his eyes didn't hold so much hatred. Ron could understand why; his dad had been killed only a few months ago (although Draco didn't know it was Harry who did it). "Although you didn't have much of one to begin with."

Harry looked at Draco. "Who the hell are you?"

Draco puffed himself up, some of his old swagger returning. "Draco Malfoy."

Harry snorted and looked to Ron. "Do I know him?"

"Remember that woman you tried chatting up in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago?" Ron didn't bother hiding his amusement. "That's his mother. He's a right git."

Malfoy looked outraged.

"The woman whose husband I killed, you mean?" asked Harry.

Silence reigned in the compartment. Malfoy's face steadily got redder and a murderous look appeared in his eyes.

"I'll kill you, Potter."

Harry stood up and, before anyone could stop him, he punched Malfoy right on the nose. The blonde boy staggered back, only managing to stay on his feet because he fell back into Goyle's arms.

"Holy shit," said Seamus, staring in awe at Harry.

"Send your mother my love," said Harry, before he slammed the door in Malfoy's face. He turned back around and smiled at Parvati like nothing had happened. "Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"

Parvati grinned coyly. "I believe you were about to kiss me, Harry."

Feeling completely flabbergasted, Ron watched Harry kiss her. It wasn't just a peck on the lips, either; it was a full blown tongue-wrestling match. Within seconds, Parvati was flat on her back, her legs wrapped around Harry's midsection. Her hands were in his hair, messing it up worse than usual, and she was loudly moaning beneath him.

Ron just stood there, wondering how on earth Harry had managed to get one of the prettiest girls in school into such a position with only a few words. He wasn't the only one staring. Seamus and Dean looked like they'd found a new hero; Padma was biting her bottom lip, intently watching, as though jealous she wasn't getting in on the action. Lavender was the only one who wasn't looking at them – she was eyeing Ron up and down instead.

"Well, you have to admit it," said Dean, breaking the silence. "He works bloody fast."

Seamus nodded, and then shook his head in disbelief.

Ron flopped into the seat. "I give up with him."

Harry and Parvati continued to furiously kiss for the rest of the train ride. The conversation eventually became less awkward and, for the most part, everyone ignored what was happening.

Ron was dreading Hermione's reaction when she found out he'd let Harry do what he wanted. He'd thought the past few years had been eventful, but he was bracing himself for the craziest year yet. They hadn't even got to Hogwarts yet and already he was unsure how much more he could take.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five **

It was the seventh time Ron had taken the Hogwarts Express to Hogwarts, but he'd never been more grateful for the train to arrive in Hogsmeade station. He mentally breathed a sigh of relief as he waited for the doors to open. The journey had started out so well. He'd managed to get Harry on the train without any fuss, and he'd found an empty compartment in the section where the little kiddies sat.

The peace and quiet hadn't lasted, and truthfully, he hadn't expected it to. As soon as Hermione had left, he'd known he was doomed.

He'd managed to drag Harry away from Parvati for all of a few minutes, so they could change into robes. Harry had thrown the robes over his shoulders and burst back into the compartment, jumping on a half-naked Parvati. She hadn't cared that her robes were riding above her caramel thighs, dangerously close to showing everything that teenage boys could only dream about. Only a lacy purple thong had hidden her modesty – barely.

The rain was lashing it down in Hogsmeade, swirling in the roaring wind and slapping against the train. Ron wondered where Hermione was and if she'd looked for him. Right now, he'd never wanted her more. If he closed his eyes he could just imagine her body wrapped around his, as they fell asleep on cotton sheets, listening to the thunderstorm raging outside.

Ron's daydream was soon cut short.

"I bet you fuck like a tiger, don't you?"

Harry's words drifted into his ears, and he barely suppressed a groan. It was Harry Potter – he could get away with saying things like that. If he, Ron Weasley, ever uttered something even close to that, he'd be on the receiving end of a slap, at the very least.

Parvati giggled, but it wasn't in the way he'd come to expect after hearing it for the last six years. It didn't sound childish, or even flirtatious in a teenage girl kind of way. Ron turned his head to see her, standing next to Harry, her head resting on his shoulder. They were looking directly into each other's eyes.

Lust – it made all the difference in the world.

Crushes were for schoolgirls. Lust was for grown women who knew exactly what they wanted, and Parvati knew exactly what she wanted. Before, Ron might have stepped in, might have stopped a shy Harry trying desperately to say no. Now, he knew Harry was loving every second of her attention.

The doors slid open and they ran to the Thestral-drawn carriages, their footsteps splashing in deep puddles, spraying muddy water over fresh robes. Harry and Parvati ran hand-in-hand next to Ron, and were the first ones to enter the cover of the carriage. Ron slipped in after Harry, shaking his head as he saw they were kissing once more.

Seamus jumped in, followed by Dean, and then Lavender and Padma joined them. They all ignored Harry and Parvati, for the most part.

"Still going strong, are they?" said Seamus, rolling his eyes.

Once they reached Hogwarts, they stopped kissing and climbed out of the carriage together, walking arm-in-arm to the castle. Ron trailed behind them, watching as Harry muttered something in her ear, making her laugh and give him a lingering kiss that was full of hidden promises.

"This is going to get old," muttered Ron.

They reached the Great Hall and Ron took a seat next to Harry. He and Parvati had started kissing again. Hermione had yet to enter the Hall, but Ron knew it was only a matter of time before she did. Dean, Seamus, and Lavender sat down opposite them; Padma was sitting at the Ravenclaw table.

"Hey, who's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Lavender wondered aloud.

Ron looked towards the staff table, surprised to find Remus sitting there. He was watching Harry with a bemused expression on his face, although he was smiling. Ron didn't have to wonder why or how he was back; he was there for Harry.

"Hey, it's Lupin," said Dean.

"Is it?" Lavender squinted. "Oh yeah. I didn't recognise him for a moment."

Ron couldn't understand how she didn't recognise a teacher she'd had for a year. It wasn't as though Remus had changed all that much since he'd taught them; he still wore threadbare robes, and though his hair was more grey nowadays, it wasn't enough to give him an entirely new look.

Hermione suddenly sat down next to Ron, muttering, "I'm so sorry, Ron. I got stuck in the meeting until we arrived at the station. I didn't realise it would take so long. Did you manage– are you all right?"

Ron swallowed thickly, suddenly finding it hard not to laugh. She'd seen the fear in his eyes, and now he didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He leant back, allowing Hermione to see Harry. Her lips parted and her eyebrows jumped up her forehead.

"How on earth did that happen?" She looked at Ron accusingly. "And why didn't you stop him?"

Ron snorted. "I did try, but you know what he's like these days. I might as well have been talking to the wall."

"But … but … how did he manage it so fast?"

"He charged into the compartment and said she and Padma had to be Indian veela, because there was no other way to explain how they were so perfect." Ron wondered if Harry had meant it; the Patil twins were absolutely stunning, no doubt about it, but veela were the very essence of perfection.

Hermione's lip curled in disgust. "They believed that?"

"What do you think?"

Malfoy slipped into the Hall, obviously trying to be discreet and utterly failing. His bright blond hair stood out like a candle in a pitch black room. Ron snickered – he couldn't help it – upon noticing the way Malfoy's nose was bent across his cheek. He'd almost forgotten about that.

"Oh yeah," said Ron, "Harry punched him."

"Punched who?" demanded Hermione, her eyes widening in alarm.

Ron just nodded towards Malfoy, who had taken his seat at the Slytherin table, his back to them. He hadn't once looked in their direction.

Surprisingly, Hermione didn't say anything more. Maybe it was because, at that very moment, the doors burst open. Ron, however, thought it was because she was remembering the time she had punched the git.

Snape was leading a group of terrified first years into the Hall, his black eyes daring anyone to utter a word.

Ron was horrified. "Who in their right mind would give Snape that job?"

"Someone has to do it, but it's not a job for the headmistress," said Hermione.

Harry stopped kissing Parvati and looked around. "That's Snape, is it?" he said, and his loud snort resounded off the walls. "He looks like one of those two sickle whores in Knockturn Alley."

Snape stumbled on his cloak and blotches of red appeared on his pallid cheeks. A disbelieving silence fell over the Hall, and Snape sent his most vicious glare towards Harry.

"What did you say?" His whisper carried to every corner of the room, terrifying the kids behind him.

Harry never even noticed. He'd gone back to kissing Parvati, completely missing the disgusted look on Snape's face. His already pale lips had disappeared almost entirely, and he strode up to the front of the Hall.

Ron couldn't help wondering how Harry even knew what Knockturn alley was, let alone what the whores looked like.

"Wait a second," said Hermione. "If Remus is back, who is teaching what subjects?"

"Well he's teaching Defence – obviously," said Ron, shaking his head. "Slughorn was killed, wasn't he, so Snape's gone back to his dungeon lair."

"Then who's teaching Transfiguration?" Hermione looked like she was on the verge of tears. McGonagall was her favourite professor, but she was now Headmistress. "How didn't I think of this before?"

Ron didn't particularly care; Snape had no power over them anymore – not really. Yes, he had killed Dumbledore, but on the man's own orders. Everyone, including the Aurors, agreed it had actually won them the war. Snape's knowledge of when Voldemort would attack Hogsmeade had given Harry the chance to catch him off guard and win.

Thus, Snape was cleared of all charges, yet still as universally despised as ever.

"Adams, Charles," said Snape, making the name sound like a particularly vicious curse.

Ron ignored the dark haired boy trembling up to the sorting hat, and looked to the staff table. There were two empty seats, one of which Snape would sit in. Who would sit in the other was anybody's guess. An uneasy feeling settled within him, which didn't disappear until Snape had finished the sorting in record time and McGonagall stood up to give her speech.

She surveyed them with sharp eyes. She was a world of difference from Dumbledore.

"Now that war is no longer darkening our doorstep, I realise many of you will feel the need to sacrifice your studies in favour of celebration," said McGonagall, and stopped only because her eyes landed on Harry. For a moment, she simply stared. Then, her eyes narrowed. "Or perhaps you will feel you no longer need to listen to your professors when they are talking to you."

Harry continued doing what he was doing – which was kissing a pretty girl – and didn't even flinch when he realised he was being talked to.

"Sorry 'bout that, Professor," he said, sending her a grin.

Unbelievably, McGonagall let it go. She also appeared to forget what she'd been saying, as the food arrived seconds later.

Halfway through dinner, a sinister grin made its way onto Harry's lips. Ron paled, unable to tear his eyes away as he watched Harry scoop a dollop of mashed potato onto his fork. But Ron's fear disappeared instantly when he realised what was about to happen, and he was far too amused to stop what was coming.

Harry bent the fork back, closed one eye and took aim. As though from a slingshot, the mashed potato soared through the air, over Seamus's head, and landed with a splat straight on the back of Malfoy's head.

Malfoy leapt out of his seat, sending a goblet of pumpkin juice flying straight into Pansy's lap. She screeched at Malfoy, her cheeks scarlet in rage.

Harry roared with laughter, thumping the table with his fist. It was such a contagious nose that Ron couldn't help but join in, and before long, the whole of Gryffindor was laughing, too.

Malfoy and Pansy burned with embarrassment, but there was little they could do in revenge with the professors intently watching them all. They were forced to sit back down and seethe.

After dinner, McGonagall sent them back to their Common Room. Ron couldn't wait to slip beneath his duvet and get some sleep. It had been a long day, and the days were only going to get longer.

The log fire had already been lit, as usual, when the Gryffindors entered the Common Room. Ron yawned as he crossed the room, about to climb the stairs when he realised Harry wasn't by his side. He had a fair idea where he was, though, and … yep, sure enough, Harry's lips were on Parvati's.

Ron just shook his head and climbed the stairs. His four-poster bed, with its heavy scarlet drapes looked so inviting that he flopped onto the mattress without removing his clothes. He didn't care. His pillow was so soft against his cheek, and he was drifting off to sleep, his thoughts filled with images of Hermione.

But his traitorous mind conjured up a vision of Hermione, smiling demurely, wearing only the denim shorts that Harry had liked so much. And suddenly, Ron saw Harry standing behind her, grinning that sinister grin as he made a thrusting motion with his hips, while giving Ron a thumbs-up.

A loud thud jolted Ron fully awake. He blinked rapidly, heart racing, when he heard humming, and then another thud.

"What the—" Ron sat up and should have expected what he saw. "Can't you wait until tomorrow, Harry?"

Harry had dumped the entire content of his trunk onto his bed.

"Oh good, I thought you were sleeping," said Harry. "Here, put this pool table back to its right size."

"Harry," whined Ron. "It's late and I'm tired."

"Don't be such a girl," said Harry, scoffing. "Have a beer with us guys."

Ron pressed his palms into his eyes. Hermione could complain all she wanted, but at least she didn't have to share a dorm with Harry.

"Ah! There's the little bugger."

Harry had found the ice box, and was sharing the beers out with Seamus and Dean. Neville hadn't arrived yet. Ron grabbed his wand and returned the pool table to its original size. It now sat in the middle of the room, taking up too much space.

"Everyone know how to play?" asked Harry, and he received nods from Seamus and Dean. "Good. Dean, you're with me. Rack 'em up, Ron!"

Harry shoved a beer into Ron's hands, and he forced himself to take a sip and drag himself out of bed, to sarcastic cheers. He really wasn't in the mood.

By the time the first frame of pool was over, Ron had finished his beer. He and Seamus had lost badly, but Ron hadn't really been trying anyway. He was sorely mistaken when he thought that would be the end of the night.

"Where do you think you're going?" asked Harry, grabbing Ron by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from his bed. "The night's just beginning."

Dean put up a Silencing Charm, which covered the whole room. It was obvious why when Seamus pulled out his wireless, and soon the dormitory was filled with the sound of rock music.

The door opened. Neville walked in and nearly jumped out of his size twelve shoes as the music hit him.

"Neville Longbottom!" shouted Seamus.

"What's going on here?" asked Nev, crossing the room to his bed.

"Never mind that," said Dean. "Where have you been?"

Neville puffed out his chest, and it was only then that Ron noticed the shiny badge on his robes.

"I had a meeting with McGonagall and Hermione," he said. "I'm Head Boy – can you believe it?"

Ron simply stared. When had Neville grown up? Where had that shy eleven year old boy gone?

Neville suddenly frowned as he looked to Harry. "I'm sure it would have gone to you, Harry, had you not had your – um – accident."

"Ha!" The thought of being Head Boy clearly disgusted Harry. "No, thank you."

Neville didn't know what to make of that.

"So," he said, "where did this come from?" He indicated the pool table. "And what is it, anyway?"

"A pool table," said Ron. "Don't worry, I don't understand it, either."

"Wait!" Harry's shout made them wince. "Does this mean the Heads don't have private rooms?"

Neville shook his head. "Um, no. Should we?"

"Huh," said Harry. "You want a beer?"

Neville eyed the beer critically. "I'm not sure alcohol is allowed."

Harry scoffed again. "Oh, no. You're not one of those, are you?"

Neville's cheeks flushed pink. "Oh, just give it here."

Sometime later, Ron was starting to feel a bit woozy, his tiredness and the alcohol catching up with him. He might have been drowsy, but Harry was still going strong.

Harry had made them play a drinking game, which had rather simple rules. If you missed a shot at pool, you had to drink. Of course, Ron and Neville could hardly hold a cue and were dreadful at the game, thus they'd drunk nearly twice as much as Harry, Seamus, and Dean.

"Rack 'em up!"

"It's half twelve, Harry," said Ron, groaning. "I need to sleep. We need to be awake at seven."

Harry, of course, just scoffed again. "Don't be silly. I've got a much better idea."

Ron dropped his head into his hands. "What is it?"

"I want to go and see the girls."

Before anyone could so much as blink, Harry had bolted out of the room. Ron looked around the room; Neville was passed out on his bed, the lucky bastard. Dean and Seamus were swaying, their eyes glazed over and half-lidded.

The three of them went to find Harry and found him waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He was wide awake and huffed at them.

"Come on," he said, and started to walk up the girls' staircase, when suddenly the stairs disappeared, turning into a slide. Harry lost his balance, fell flat on his arse, and slid down, coming to a stop at Ron's feet.

"What the hell?" demanded Harry.

"We're not allowed up there," said Dean, grinning at Harry's misfortune.

"Well you could've told me that was going to happen," said Harry, climbing to his feet. He eyed the staircase. "So, how do we get up there?"

"We don't," Ron said forcefully.

"Don't you want to go and see Hermione, Ronnie?" Harry said, sniggering.

Ron managed to control his blush. "She's the last person you want to see right now, Harry."

"Don't worry, I've got an even better idea. I'll be right back."

Harry turned around and ran back up the boys' staircase. He was only gone for a few moments, when he came back down, a firework clutched in his grasp.

"No," Ron frantically pleaded. "Please, Harry, you'll wake up the whole bloody castle. And you'll start a fire!"

"Of course I won't," said Harry, shaking his head like Ron was being stupid. "Fred and George planned for that, didn't they? They're safe to use indoors."

It still didn't sit well with Ron, but he had no choice in the matter, as Seamus lit the firework. Harry cackled as he lobbed it up the stairs.

The four boys looked at each other, three of them grinning. Then, as one, they turned around and bolted to their dormitory. They leapt into their beds, and Ron held his breath, waiting for the inevitable, until finally…

**BANG!**

"Merlin!" Neville leapt out of bed, his eyes wide and his wand in hand. "What the hell was that?"

He didn't receive an answer, as they all pretended to be asleep. Neville threw his robes over his head and ran out of the room, nearly tripping over his own feet in his drunken state.

For a moment, all Ron could hear was the sound of his heart and his breathing, but then the girls started shouting. Hermione's voice cut through the panic, ordering everyone back to bed.

Then, in the darkness, came Harry's quiet laughter.

"I've got to be honest, Potter," said Seamus, who was also chuckling, "even though you're a nutcase, you're loads more fun since you had a knock on the head."

Ron couldn't have disagreed more. "He's bloody barmy!"

"Well, yeah," Seamus said. "But you have to admit it's entertaining as hell."

Ron just shook his head.

He wasn't sure when he managed to fall asleep, but his dreams that night were plagued by the sound of Harry's mad cackling.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **It would be awesome if you'd review and let me know what you think of this story so far.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

The seventh year girls' dormitory was quiet, which was just how Hermione liked it. Her four-poster bed was the closest to the window and she always left the hangings open on one side, so she could feel the warmth of the sun on her body. She was usually the first of her roommates to wake up, and she liked to listen to the birds singing and watch the sun rise over the Forbidden Forest.

It was the first day of a new school year, which would usually have Hermione brimming with excitement. She didn't find that at all strange; if anything, she found it extremely odd that others didn't feel the same way, but she'd accepted a long time ago that she was simply different to most. Today, however, was different, and Hermione knew exactly how they felt. For the first time in her life, she was anxious and not at all excited about the upcoming lessons.

There was a very good reason Hermione felt this way: Harry would finally be getting his wand back. The very thought made her grimace. She kicked the covers off her body, allowing the sun to warm her bare legs, and stared at her toes as she tried to control her thoughts.

Professor Dumbledore had personally taught Harry from the beginning of sixth year until the headmaster's death. Harry had told them all it had just been research into Tom Riddle's life, until he'd finally admitted there was more to his lessons than that.

Hermione shook her head, trying to assure herself that everything would be just fine. After all, Harry had no memory of ever casting a simple Levitation Charm, let alone anything that could be considered dangerous. She was just being silly, she told herself, but the nagging doubt that Harry could do something stupid wouldn't leave her brain.

The thought stayed with her until breakfast. She was in the Great Hall, looking through her timetable and nibbling on a slice of toast, when the boy in question finally showed up, with Ron in tow. She couldn't help but stare, and she wasn't the only one. Ron was traipsing towards her, his collar askew, shirt buttons in the wrong holes, and with dark bags under his eyes. Harry's hair was sticking up at all angles, his necktie hanging lose, and he wasn't wearing robes.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at their appearance.

"Mornin'," muttered Ron, not even looking at her as he reached for a plate of bacon.

Harry gave her his most charming smile. "Good morning, Hermione." His tone instantly put her on high alert. Harry rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. "Tell me, Hermione – have I ever told you how wonderful you are?"

Ron paused eating and frowned at Harry. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"What do you want, Harry?"

Harry's smile didn't falter for a moment as he said, "Can I please have my wand back?"

Hermione hesitated. This was the moment she'd been dreading; she was sure she'd had a nightmare about it. Harry noticed her reluctance.

"What do I have to do?" he said, his eyes twinkling.

Hermione wondered if he'd learnt that trick from professor Dumbledore. She shook her head to clear the bizarre thought.

"I don't want you to do anything, Harry."

Harry looked left and right, before shrugging to himself. Hermione watched as he slipped under the table and resurfaced next to her, slipping an arm around her waist.

"Just what are you playing at, Harry?" demanded Hermione, slightly flustered as he started rubbing circles along her hip.

Harry's smile widened and he leaned in close to her, his lips only inches from her ear. Hermione felt her body quiver; her toes clenched tightly and she struggled not to tremble. She wondered for a second if Harry had stolen back his wand and cursed her.

"I promise not to do anything you don't want me to do," whispered Harry, his breath hot on her ear.

"You won't charm me, Harry," said Hermione, her lie obvious to her own ears. Harry was doing a remarkably good job of charming her off her feet, and he'd hardly said a damn thing! "Here, you can have your wand back."

Hermione retrieved the wand from her bag and handed it to him. A rush of warmth spread through her body as he squeezed her thigh in thanks, before he suddenly ducked back under the desk and sat back in his original place.

"Cheers, Hermione," he said, winking as he snatched a slice of buttered toast from Ron's stack.

"No … no problem," Hermione managed to say, out of breath. Her cheeks were feeling very warm and her legs were trembling now.

Ron looked at her. "Have we had our timetables yet?"

Hermione was very grateful for the distraction. Harry was looking at her like he knew exactly what she was feeling, and he was loving every second of her discomfort. She handed the boys their timetables and put hers into her bag.

"Double Transfiguration first," grunted Ron. "That should be different without McGonagall, eh, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, his attention obviously elsewhere. He was surveying the room and twirling his wand in his fingers.

"I wouldn't know, mate," he said.

"We have Charms after lunch," said Hermione. She'd already memorised the timetable. "Harry, what on earth has caught your attention?"

Harry was looking across the Hall with one eye closed and the tip of his tongue between his teeth.

"That gorgeous blonde Slytherin girl has caught my attention," said Harry. "So has that curvy brunette, that short girl with the big rack, and Ron's sister."

"Harry!"

"Calm down, Ron," said Harry, chuckling under his breath. "Ginny hasn't even come down to breakfast yet."

"Why are you even looking at other girls, anyway?" asked Ron, frowning. "You've already got Parvati, who's one of the best looking girls in the school."

Harry stopped twirling his wand and slowly lowered it to the table. He turned to Ron and gave him a filthy look.

"Have I taught you nothing, Ron?" Harry stretched his arms out wide. "Look around you, man, there's girls everywhere!"

Ron looked blank.

"It's like fishing," explained Harry. "You go to the water and cast out your _rod_," he winked at Hermione, "and then you'll hook a big ol' fish, but that doesn't mean you stop fishing, does it?"

"But, Harry," bemoaned Ron, "I can't even fish!"

"It's not that difficult," said Harry. "Let me tell you a little secret. Most of these girls have mightily important exams coming up, which will be a very stressful time for them. The pressure will eventually become too much, and that's where I step in, offering to _relieve_ some of that tension for them."

Hermione's skin was burning as she remembered thinking similar thoughts. In fifth year, the OWL's had been coming up, creating tight knots in her body, and all she'd wanted was someone to … give her a helping hand. Hermione flushed even harder as she remembered the long showers she had started taking. In an attempt to hide her scarlet cheeks, she concentrated on eating, but Harry (of course) noticed and couldn't help but comment.

"Hermione knows what I'm talking about!" he said, chortling.

"I have no idea what you mean," said Hermione, refusing to look him in the eye.

She was saved by Ron, who had been deep in thought.

"Hang on a minute," said Ron, his eyes scanning along the table. "If you're seeing Parvati now, what does she think of you looking at other girls?" He looked towards Hermione for help.

"Ron's correct," said Hermione, offering the redhead a smile for actually being considerate to another person's feelings.

"Ron." Harry shook his head and sighed deeply. "You have a lot to learn, my friend."

For once, Hermione disagreed with that statement.

"Harry, you wouldn't cheat on Parvati … would you?"

"I'd say it's pretty hard to cheat on someone who isn't my girlfriend," Harry said. He tipped his goblet towards her, smiling smugly, before taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

Hermione eyed him critically. "Parvati isn't your girlfriend? Does she know that?"

"Of course she does," said Harry, snorting. "She agreed we should just be casual."

"Casual?" repeated Hermione dumbly.

"Yes. Casual," said Harry, nodding as he started eating another slice of toast. "Parvati said she had a boyfriend once, but it didn't work, and now she just wants the good part of the relationship. Doesn't want any of the baggage, and I have to say I agree with her."

Ron met Hermione's eyes and shook his head. "Where did you find the time to talk about all of that?" he muttered snidely. "I didn't see you do anything but snog her. I didn't think you even knew her surname."

Harry blinked, confusion entering his eyes. "Huh. Who would've thought it? I don't know her surname." Harry began chewing on his tongue as he looked skywards, as though the answer would present itself in the enchanted ceiling. He completely missed Hermione and Ron gaping at him. "It begins with either a B or a P, I think," he murmured. "Ba … Pa … no, it's Ba … aha! I've got it!" Harry punched his arms out in triumph, accidentally flinging his toast down the Gryffindor table, hitting Colin Creevey right between the eyes. "It's Batil. Parvati Batil."

"Patil," Hermione automatically corrected, looking anywhere but towards Colin Creevey, who was looking around in confusion as he clutched his head. That's when she spotted Parvati walking into the Hall. "And speak of the devil, here she comes now."

Harry craned his neck around Ron and smiled widely. "Oh, don't worry, Hermione," he said, sparing Hermione a glance. "There'll always be plenty of room for you in my life. Parvati!"

Parvati came to a stop in front of Harry. Her hair was styled down her back in a way that made Hermione twitch with jealousy.

"Hey, Harry," said Parvati, sliding her arms over Harry's shoulders and planting a firm kiss on his lips. "We'll meet up tonight, yeah?"

"You betcha," said Harry.

Parvati kissed him again before removing her arms from his shoulders. She walked away with a noticeable sway in her hips, which captured Harry's attention.

"You ever seen an arse like that, Ron?" said Harry, sighing. "Fleur doesn't count, of course."

Ron's ears turned pink as he answered, in his best innocent voice, "I wasn't looking, mate."

Hermione scoffed at him and wondered when she'd started partaking in such ridiculous conversations. It was around about the time Harry woke up from his coma. She couldn't remember the last time they'd spoke normally, without him bringing up some ridiculous scheme or boast.

"Harry," she said, wondering where he was going to take the conversation this time. "When you say it's casual, what does that even mean? Have you set up limits or boundaries?"

Harry shrugged, but then looked her dead in the eye, completely serious. "Parvati knows you can't keep a noble stallion like myself to one woman."

"Is that right?" said Hermione, dubious.

Harry nodded vigorously. "Some men are born to be workhorses," he said, jabbing a finger at Ron. "Take him as an example. He's my loyal steed."

"Hey!" complained Ron, but he was ignored.

Hermione was amused despite herself and couldn't help asking, even if she knew she'd regret it, "And what does that make me?"

"I suppose you can be my damsel in distress," said Harry, winking at her. "I'll be your knight in shining armour, rescuing you from the clutches of evil redheads."

Ron bristled at the insult. Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"The metaphor is falling apart, Harry. How can you be a knight in shining armour and a stallion?"

Harry bit his lip in thought, before declaring, "I'm an Animagus!"

Ron snorted. "So, you're a horse?"

"Well, I'm hung like a horse as it is," said Harry with a grin. "If you think about it, it only makes sense." He winked at Hermione. "You can ride me any time you want."

Ron started choking on scrambled egg, which Hermione was thankful for, as it took the attention off her. She was blushing so hard, she thought she was about to faint. Harry sent her a knowing smile as he whacked Ron on the back.

"Why don't we head to class?" suggested Hermione.

Ron's eyes were watering heavily and his skin was a blotchy red as he heaved himself to his feet. He muttered to himself under his breath on the walk to Transfiguration, but Hermione ignored him as they entered the classroom.

It was a rather odd feeling, not knowing who would be teaching them. At least in Defence Against the Dark Arts they'd always known beforehand who the professor was. Hermione sat right at the front, lost in her thoughts, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't think so, Hermione," said Harry, who was still standing and looking over her head.

Hermione frowned, watching the silent conversation he was having with Ron. The next thing she knew, Ron placed his hand under her arm, Harry grabbed her other, and they lifted her out of her seat and started carrying her towards the back of the room.

"Put me down," she demanded, squirming in their arms, but their grip held steady.

They reached the back of the classroom and they plonked her in the middle of a three-seated desk, before they sat down either side of her.

"We don't want people thinking we're teacher's pets, Hermione," said Harry scornfully.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, trying not to pout, and glared severely at a particular groove in the wooden desk. A sharp intake of breath caught her attention and she looked up sharply. All the blood drained from her face when she saw what had caused Harry's reaction.

Fleur Delacour strode into the classroom, wearing elaborate lilac robes. Her blonde hair shining and nose high in the air, she refused to look anywhere near Harry as she stopped at her desk and faced the class. Her lip curled slightly upon seeing the open-mouthed stares. Hermione was just thankful she wasn't sitting at the front. Harry was slumped in his seat, looking like someone had killed his pet, cancelled Christmas, and told him he'd die a virgin.

"Should've stayed at the front," he moaned piteously.

Hermione shushed him, seeing Fleur was about to start speaking.

"I am sure some of you remember me," she started, lifting a perfect, elegant eyebrow. Her English had improved immeasurably, but her accent hadn't quite disappeared completely. "But for those zat do not, I am Professor Delacour."

Fleur flashed a bright smile that had every male drooling. Hermione scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest again.

"How pathetic can you get?"

Ron had grown somewhat accustomed to Fleur's aura, but he still looked ruddy and flustered in her presence. He raised an eyebrow at Hermione.

"I dunno, Hermione," he said, his lips twitching. "It reminds me of Lockhart."

Hermione's jaw shut with a click and Ron sat back, smug. The only difference between Fleur and Lockhart was Fleur wasn't a fraud. Hermione turned her attention back to the teacher, somewhat abashed, when she noticed Harry. He was half out of his seat and grinning from ear to ear, his dark mood of only minutes before gone. Hermione clamped a hand on his thigh and gave him a warning glare.

"You should 'ave learnt animate to animate Transfiguration by now," Fleur was saying. "By the end of today's lesson, I want everyone to be able to do it perfectly, yes?" Her eyes dared them to disagree and unsurprisingly, no one did. Fleur directed Lavender to hand out the rabbits for them to practice with and only then did she turn her attention to Harry.

"'Ave you performed any spells yet, 'Arry?" Fleur looked down at the messy-haired boy, who shook his head. "Zen I want you to perform a simple spell to begin with. Ze 'eadmistress believes you will retain your skills with practice, even if you do not 'ave any memory of them."

Hermione watched with baited breath. Neither her nor Ron were even pretending to do their own work.

"What should I do?" asked Harry, whipping out his wand with an overdramatic flourish. His hands were shaking in anticipation.

Fearing what he would do, Hermione jumped in with her own suggestion. "Why don't you try the first spell we ever learnt in Transfiguration?"

Hermione told him the spell and Fleur placed a matchstick on the desk in front of him.

"I just change it to a needle?" Harry looked decidedly unimpressed. At Hermione's nod, he eyed the match, cleared his throat, and viciously jabbed his wand, as though it had offended his mother. "_Immuto!"_

Nothing happened. Hermione was about to comfort her friend when she noticed, to her amazement, the match started growing. She watched as it steadily turned silver and became the size of a wand. Then, it grew rapidly and before anyone could stop it, it became the size of a spear.

"Whoa…" breathed Ron.

"I meant that," said Harry, but no one believed him.

"Per'aps you need to work on your control, 'Arry," said Fleur. She gave him a small, comforting smile and returned to her desk.

Harry blushed a deep scarlet. "No control, huh? I'll show her," he muttered to himself. He stabbed his wand at the spear and with no other movement or incantation, it instantly shrank back to a needle.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "How on earth did you do that, Harry?"

"I dunno," said Harry. He shrugged it off, but it was obvious he was just as confused as Hermione. "I can't really explain it. It's like the magic is there, in the back of my mind, but it feels … wonky. Does that make any sense?"

It didn't. Not at all.

"Wonky?" Hermione repeated.

"Yeah. Watch." Harry pointed his wand at the needle again. "_Immuto_," he cast, and the needle turned into a matchstick, only it doubled in size. "See, wonky. I don't think I even need to say anything for something so small." He jabbed his wand at the matchstick again and it shrank and switched to a needle. "I can't explain it, really."

"Well, you can obviously do it, you just need to practice," said Hermione encouragingly. "Here, why don't you try something harder?" She placed the rabbit in front of him. "Try changing it from white to black. I won't tell you how, you just have to do it."

Harry eyed her for a moment before shrugging. He pointed his wand at the rabbit, saying nothing. The only movement was the rabbit's nose twitching and then all of a sudden it was as black as Harry's hair.

"It's easy," said Harry, and for once he wasn't bragging, just stating the truth.

Hermione couldn't hide her amazement. For beginners, transfiguration at its most basic level was usually done very slowly. A match _slowly _turned into a needle. The better you became, the faster you could transfigure an object. It was why masters like Dumbledore and McGonagall could make it look instantaneous.

"This is remarkable, Harry! It shouldn't be easy. Not even I can do it as easily as that."

Hermione didn't perform a spell for the rest of the lesson. She was simply too dumbfounded watching Harry perform magic with such ease. He changed the rabbit back to its white colour, before casually changing it into a snowy white owl that looked identical to Hedwig. Then, he lazily flicked his wand and the owl popped into an acoustic guitar. It was even tuned! Ron mentioned always having wanted to learn an instrument, so Harry performed the Geminio Spell (without knowing the spell) and gave it to him. He'd then had the cheek to turn to Hermione and ask her if she wanted one too.

"Hang on a moment, Harry," said Hermione as a random thought popped into her head. "Turn it into a snake. Any one will do."

"When you say a snake," said Harry, eyebrow raised and grin firmly in place, "do you mean—"

"A real snake," interrupted Hermione, trying not to get too flustered.

Harry winked at her, proving he'd said it just to wind her up, and flicked his wand at the guitar. A black snake with white markings popped into existence (a long-nosed viper), coiled on the desk. It raised its head, its tongue flicking out, and its eyes landed on Harry.

"It's beautiful," breathed Harry.

"Speak to it," instructed Hermione. Harry looked at her like she'd just asked him to jump off the Astronomy Tower. "Trust me, Harry. Say something to it."

"Um, hi," said Harry, looking sheepishly at the snake. "The crazy lady next to me asked me to speak to you, but …" his voice trailed off in hisses, but he didn't notice.

The idea had come randomly, but Hermione hadn't truly expected him to still be able to speak the language. She was brought out of her thoughts by Harry forcefully sliding his chair back, nearly topping over the back of his seat. His eyes were wide and he pointed a shaking finger at the snake, which had reared its head. Its jaw was open, and for a moment, Hermione had the bizarre thought that it was laughing.

"It spoke to me!" yelled Harry, attracting the attention of the class. "Hermione, it told me I smell like wasted youth and sexual frustration."

There were a few chuckles before everyone went back to their work; they clearly thought Harry was joking.

"You're a Parselmouth," said Hermione. "You speak Parseltongue, the language of snakes."

"Huh." Harry eyed the snake. "How did I learn it?"

"You didn't," said Hermione. "You gained the ability the night Voldemort tried to kill you."

When Hermione finished telling him the story, he didn't seem all that bothered. He conversed with the snake for the rest of the lesson, chattering happily away about Merlin knows what. By the time they finished and went for lunch, the conversation continued. Harry completely missed the stares he received upon walking into the Hall with the snake wrapped around his forearm. Parvati adamantly refused to sit next to him, but he didn't really seem to mind. Halfway through eating his dessert, Harry finally turned to Ron and Hermione.

"I need to give this mighty fine creature a name, don't you think?" said Harry, patting the snake on the head.

"You're giving that thing a name?" asked Ron, eyeing the snake in disgust. "You're just as bad as Hagrid!"

"I could always call him Ron, but that would probably get confusing," said Harry, ignoring Ron's mutinous glare. "Can you imagine? I'd be saying stuff like, 'Ron woke me up this morning telling me he was hungry'."

Hermione hid a smile as she joined the conversation. "Actually, nobody would be confused if you said that."

Ron rolled his eyes as he shoved a spoonful of custard into his mouth. "What have you been talking about for so long, anyway?"

"He was just telling me how he'd like to grow big enough to be able to swallow you whole," said Harry, subtly winking at Hermione. "He says you look particularly tasty."

Ron paled. "Wh-what?"

Harry cracked up. "You're too easy, Weasley," he said. Even the snake seemed to laugh. "You know what, I think I'll call him Mr Snake. Just Snake for short."

"How original," said Hermione.

Ron muttered darkly under his breath.

"Be thankful Harry doesn't know about your arachnophobia," whispered Hermione, shivering slightly at the thought.

Harry's head snapped up and he stared at them with a mischievous grin. That's what Hermione called it. She shuddered to think what he would have been like had he grown up with James Potter and Sirius Black.

Ron spotted the look on Harry's face and shouted, "Charms!" He swiftly grabbed his bag from under the table and bolted out his seat, heading for the doors.

Hermione followed at a slower pace, reluctantly walking side-by-side with Harry and his snake for company. As they stepped onto the staircase, Harry turned to her.

"Do you want to touch my snake, Hermione?"

Hermione sighed. She'd been expecting him to say something crude and she narrowed her eyes at him, which made him grin widely.

"Don't be shy," he said, laughing. "He only wants you to give him a nice stroke."

Hermione furiously blushed once again and lengthened her stride, failing to ignore Harry's boisterous laughter echoing off the walls.

"Tell your snake it can go and stroke itself!" she shouted. Instead of having the desired effect of shutting Harry up, it only made him laugh that much harder.

* * *

><p><strong>AN** _Believe it or not, there is a slight plot to this story, even if it doesn't exactly look like it. I know Harry seems far too powerful, using magic so easily like he does in this chapter, but I put it in for a very good reason (and because I think it's funny). Also, his magic is 'wonky'. Remember that. Anyway, thanks for reading. Review?_


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

Charms was Parvati's favourite subject, although that didn't mean she was early to class. She slipped inside the classroom just as the bell reverberated around the halls, breathing heavy from having run up the last flight of stairs. Professor Flitwick offered her a cheery smile, but nobody else paid her any attention as she took her seat at the back of the room, next to the window overlooking the school grounds.

"Good afternoon," said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky voice. He beamed at the class as they boomed his greeting back at him, before he proceeded to start calling out their names from the register.

As Parvati retrieved her wand from her robes, ready for the lesson, a low hissing sound caught her attention. It was followed by a quiet snicker and then the unmistakable sound of Hermione Granger sighing. Parvati had been warned about that sigh, from Hermione herself last night; she'd said it was borne out of a prolonged amount of time spent in Harry Potter's company. When Parvati had expressed her confusion, Hermione had cryptically told her that she would soon find out she meant.

Parvati thought she now understood, as she watched Harry converse with the snake coiled around his forearm. He was patting it on the head, as though it was a cute little puppy and not a venomous serpent. Harry happened to catch her eye and his lips quirked in a grin, which just about took her breath away. Her chest suddenly felt very warm. The smile she returned was wider than normal, creating dimples in her cheeks and showing her white teeth.

"Parvati Patil," said Professor Flitwick, lifting his eyes from the register to glance at her.

"Here, sir," she said absently.

"Harry Potter?"

Harry had been paying even less attention than Parvati had been, so his name being called out jolted him. He looked up sharply, blinking in confusion, and hissed something. On the other side of the room, Draco Malfoy violently flinched.

"I didn't quite catch that, Mr Potter," said Professor Flitwick, frowning.

"Sorry about that," said Harry, this time in English and not Parseltongue.

Next to Harry, Ron's shoulders shook with stifled laughter. Harry rolled his eyes but smiled, and then he patted his snake again. The action caused Hermione's face to distort in disgust, which Parvati would have found comical, had she not been as equally repulsed.

"When I finish here I'll find you a big, juicy toad," said Harry, obviously not realising he was speaking English. Neville Longbottom gave Harry a worried look. The snake hissed, seemingly in excitement, and Parvati wondered if it could understand English. "Yes, of course you can have dessert," Harry added, before slipping into Parseltongue again.

Parvati had known Harry for years, of course. They'd never quite been friends, more like acquaintances, and she'd never really known who he was. She knew the public's perception of him, which fluctuated between thinking he was their heroic saviour the one moment, but then proclaimed him to be the next Dark Lord the very next day. No, Parvati didn't really know him, but she had liked to think she knew him better than most. When he had walked into her compartment on the Hogwarts Express, everything had changed.

That fateful day inside the Shrieking Shack had changed him. As Ron had said, Harry was different. He wasn't the same boy that had asked her to the Yule Ball in fourth year. His black hair was still as messy as ever, still the same hair she had dreamt about running her fingers through; his eyes were still bright green, too, but they held more mischief now. There was a swagger about him, in the way he walked and acted; he had an inner belief and a new confidence that bordered on arrogance.

Parvati had grown up since the events of the Yule Ball. She had been more annoyed that night than truly hurt; Harry had ignored her, but the night had ended well after a French boy had swept her off her feet. She had experienced young love and heartbreak and she never wanted to feel it again. So, while Harry wasn't the same boy anymore, she wasn't the same girl, either.

Finished with the register, Professor Flitwick began speaking about the N.E.W.T exams that faced them all at the end of the year. He then told them to brush up on last year's charms, and like Professor Delacour had done, he walked between the rows of desks until he came to Harry.

"The Headmistress has told me about your predicament, Harry," said Professor Flitwick, his tone sympathetic. "How has your spell casting been so far today?"

Parvati's gaze was fixed on Harry's fingers, which were twirling his wand with an elegance she hadn't expected from him, one which he had certainly never shown before.

"It's very rusty," said Harry. "But so far, it's been okay. With a bit of practice I'm sure it will be back to normal. The magic is there, it just needs to be … refined."

A crease appeared in Professor Flitwick's brow. "Would you mind showing me, Harry?" The professor placed a feather on the desk. "Perhaps with a simple Levitation Charm?"

"Of course," said Harry. He stopped twirling his wand and pointed it at the feather. "I don't actually know the incantation. The spell's there in my head, somewhere, but the incantation is just out of reach."

Despite his words, it obviously wasn't too much of a problem, because the next second the feather launched itself into the ceiling. Parvati craned her neck and watched the feather gently float back down, landing back on the desk.

"Now you know what I mean when I say it needs to be refined," said Harry, looking faintly annoyed with himself.

Professor Flitwick raised a white eyebrow and murmured, "I daresay I do."

Harry crossed his arms, which was a mistake. He was still holding his wand and the feather, along with the desk it had been on, was suddenly whipped across the room. It crashed into the wall above Malfoy's head and clambered to the floor, forcing the students on that side of the room to scatter out of the way. The room instantly fell silent and every eye turned to Harry, who heaved a sigh. He aimed his wand towards the other side of the room, narrowed his eyes in concentration, and the table levitated into the air. Harry guided it back across the room and placed it on the floor in front of Hermione, Ron, and himself.

Professor Flitwick had been as perplexed as everyone else at first, but seemed satisfied at Harry's last spell.

"I would advise you to master the simple spells before trying anything that could be considered dangerous," he said. "Keep trying, Harry. I'm sure Miss Granger will give you all the help you need."

For the rest of the class, Parvati tried her hardest to revise the charms they'd learnt in the previous year, but her concentration wavered and she couldn't keep her eyes off Harry. After the initial mishap with his magic, he forced himself to concentrate harder, and it resulted in the feather floating perfectly in place at eye level. Parvati saw she wasn't the only one intrigued, as Hermione was watching him carefully. Ron was slumped in his seat, his cheek resting on his fist, not even bothering to act like he was doing his own work.

Harry ignored them all; his focus was fully on the feather. With a careful turn of his wrist, the feather started to rotate in mid-air. Satisfied, Harry gave the smallest flick with his wand and the feather spun faster.

Even though it was relatively simple magic, Parvati was impressed. Harry was bending the magic to his will, but she knew it wouldn't be long until he would be commanding his spells with ease. She could feel the power within him, bubbling away just under the surface, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice. It made her think of vast landscapes, like the mountains surrounding Hogwarts, yet it made her think of home. She could feel it in her bones, and her skin tingled in a way she had never felt before. It took her breath away.

Something must have fell into place inside Harry's mind, as a small grin appeared on his lips and his eyes sparkled. The next moment, the feather glided across the room, capturing a number of people's attention. They watched as the tip of the feather tickled Malfoy on the back of his neck. The blonde boy whirled around, his grey eyes irritated, but the feather had jumped out of his sight. He sent a glare Harry's way, who was whistling innocently. As soon as Malfoy turned back around, Harry had the feather tickle him again, this time behind his ear.

"Potter!" snapped Malfoy, furious.

"Huh?" said Harry, appearing completely oblivious. He pulled it off remarkably well.

"I know it's you," said Malfoy, his face pink. "Whatever it is you're doing, stop it."

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat and asked, "Something wrong, gentlemen?"

"Not at all," said Harry cheerily. "I'm not sure what Malfoy's on about, to be honest."

Malfoy huffed but said nothing. Harry waited all of thirty seconds before he did it again, but Malfoy failed to react. Harry shrugged it off and brought the feather back, this time making it dip into Hermione's inkwell. The feather then flew to Parvati's desk and started to write on a blank piece of space in her Charms textbook.

_Meet me tonight, in the common room, at nine? And I know I'm hard to resist, but shouldn't you be doing your own work, not watching me do mine?_

Parvati hid a smile behind her hand and retrieved her quill. For a moment she marvelled at the magic Harry had done; she wasn't sure she would be able to dictate a quill to write out anything by using a levitation charm, yet he had, and the writing was neat, too! She wrote a reply on a spare piece of parchment, forcing her usual loopy handwriting to be neater than usual.

_I'll be there. Perhaps you'll show me what else you can do with a wand?_

Parvati passed the parchment over and watched Harry's face become eager. He raised his eyes to her and nodded.

Her concentration completely left her after that, as her mind filled with thoughts that left her grinding her teeth in anticipation. Seconds before class finished, Harry sent the feather towards Malfoy once again. This time, he didn't tickle him; as soon as the feather was above Malfoy's head, it exploded, showering him with fake snow. Harry's booming laughter followed, just as the bell rang.

* * *

><p>It was loud in the Gryffindor common room later on that evening. The tower was filled with students from not just Gryffindor, but Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, too. It made for a lively atmosphere, as it always was on the first day back to school. With next to no homework to complete, friends used the free time to catch up after a long summer break.<p>

Parvati ignored them all; their voices were merely a constant buzz in her head. She was sitting by the fireplace, commonly known as the most comfortable seats in the tower. Lavender was next to her, excitedly chattering on about a new cosmetic charm she wanted to attempt. Parvati nodded in all the right places, but it was obvious she wasn't paying attention; it was lucky Lavender could continue a conversation with herself, really.

As the minutes ticked by, they were joined by Dean and Seamus, but Parvati found her eyes drifting to the portrait hole every few minutes. Harry had yet to show his face. She hadn't seen him since Charms. Who knew what he got up to in his spare time? If she had her way, they'd be spending a lot of their free time together in the upcoming weeks, preferably alone and away from prying eyes.

Parvati's hopes were raised when Ron and Hermione stomped through the portrait hole, but were dashed when there was still no sign of Harry. Perhaps he'd gone flying; she knew how much he enjoyed Quidditch. She was thinking of asking Ron and Hermione, but stopped herself when she noticed the argument they appeared to be having. They were sat by the window and Ron was gesticulating furiously about something. Oddly enough, Hermione was nodding along, a resigned look on her face.

Dean started sniggering. "Don't tell me they're having another row?" He shook his head. "I wish they'd just have it off with each other and get it over with. If I have to hear Ron complaining about her all year, I think I'll end up killing him in his sleep!"

Parvati could sympathise. Dean's little speech reminded her of Lavender, who complained about everyone and everything, including a certain Ron Weasley.

"You know," said Lavender, nibbling on her lipstick smothered lip, "I always thought it would be Harry and Hermione who got together."

Dean seemed sceptic. "Really?"

A hint of annoyance tugged at Parvati's patience. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, do you ever see them arguing? Or even falling out?" Lavender looked at them like they were all stupid for not figuring it out. "Just look at the way she looks at him. She's completely in love with him, even if she hasn't realised it yet."

Dean and Seamus looked at each other, frowning.

"I'm not so sure about that," said Seamus.

"I just think they've been through so much together, they're bound to be really close," said Dean. "The three of them are never out of each other's company. From what I've gathered, they spend most of the summer together, too."

Lavender scoffed. "Well, as much as I don't like it, I think Ron and Harry are both in love with her, but Hermione's not sure what she wants."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "If that's the case, my money's on Ron. If you haven't noticed, Harry's changed — big time. He's not even sitting with them right now."

Lavender couldn't help taking a peek over the back of the sofa. "Well, maybe he's got detention or something."

"You'll change your mind when you talk to him," said Dean confidently.

Lavender wasn't convinced. "Well, whoever Hermione decides, can you imagine if they had kids?" She started giggling. "Their hair would be horrendous!"

Parvati tuned out of the conversation at that point. She wasn't sure what to feel. It wasn't as though she and Harry were going to get married and grow old together. She didn't even know if they'd last a month in each other's company without annoying one another, so it really wasn't worth dwelling on.

Harry finally arrived in the common room a few minutes later, looking like he'd stepped straight off a broomstick. His hair was even messier than usual and his eyes roamed the common room until they fell on her, but something else caught his attention and he looked away. With a frown, he turned back to her and held up a finger, indicating he would be back, before he crossed the room and sat down at Ron and Hermione's table.

"Speak of the devil," said Seamus.

"One day I'm going to force him to let me cut his hair," said Lavender, looking annoyed. "How does he live with it?"

Parvati happened to like his hair; it made him different to all the boys whose hair was gelled and styled. She sometimes thought they spent longer in front of the mirror than she did.

"Speaking of Harry," said Dean, his voice turning eager, "did we get around to telling you who let that firework off last night?"

Parvati should have known. At least she hadn't been asleep when it had gone off, although it had still made her jump about a foot in the air.

"It was Harry," said Seamus needlessly. "The boy's mad, I tell you!"

Lavender leant forward on the edge of her seat, desperate to hear more, and she wasn't disappointed. Parvati held in a sigh and only heard part of the story, which was something to do with drinking beer. Halfway through Seamus's telling of it, she felt her bra twitch on her back. She thought nothing of it, but the clasp suddenly snapped open, making her gasp.

Luckily, she was ignored by her friends, who were too engrossed in their conversation to hear her. Parvati was about to quietly slip away, to head to the bathroom to sort out her bra, when she felt it clasp itself back together. She whipped around, wondering what the hell was going on, when she saw Harry sitting at his table. He was staring at her, a smirk playing on his lips, and innocently twirling his wand in his fingers.

Parvati's jaw dropped, which made him laugh. Hermione gave him a sidelong glance, frowning like she thought he'd lost his marbles.

Parvati had never heard of a spell that unhooked bras, but she was quite certain that such a spell didn't exist. She still didn't have the faintest idea how Harry had managed to do it, though.

"So, what is happening between the two of you?" asked Lavender.

"What?" asked a baffled Parvati.

Lavender huffed. One of her biggest pet peeves was being ignored, as Parvati had learnt over the years.

"Are you and Harry together now or not?" she asked. "You haven't told me anything yet!"

"Oh," said Parvati. "No, we're not. I don't want to be tied down, and neither does he." She hid a smile. What he'd actually said was the only time he wanted to be tied down was if she did it with ropes. "We're just seeing what happens, at least for now."

"It's just sex, is it?" asked Dean, frowning.

His words might have offended most women (he'd said the same thing to Lavender once and she refused to talk to him for weeks because of it, even though he'd been entirely correct), but it didn't bother Parvati. Sex was just sex; it was exactly what she wanted. While Lavender wanted romance and a loving relationship, Parvati didn't at this moment in time.

"I suppose so," said Parvati, shrugging. "It's what we both want, so why not?"

Seamus snorted. "He's a lucky bastard."

"Tell me about it," muttered Dean.

Parvati took their words as a compliment. She was quite amused when Seamus went on to complain that he couldn't find a girl like her, no matter how hard he'd looked. As he was talking, Parvati felt her bra unhook itself again. She bit down on her bottom lip, but otherwise didn't react.

This time, Harry didn't strap her bra back together. After a few minutes, it became clear he didn't like her lack of response. Out of nowhere, a pair of hands settled themselves on her shoulders. Parvati turned to see who it was, but nobody was standing behind her. When she looked, Harry was still sitting on the other side of the room.

He nonchalantly flicked his wand and Parvati had the sensation of somebody running their fingers down her spine. Her eyes widened in wonder. That must have been what he'd been doing all evening! He'd been researching charms. Parvati shivered as her shoulders started being massaged by hands that weren't even there.

One hand continued to massage her shoulder, while another moved to start caressing her hip. Parvati wondered how long Harry would persist, but found her own patience starting to wear thin after a few minutes. She was starting to get very hot under her robe, and she'd been forced to clamp her legs together and grip the arm of the sofa. The hand on her hip tugged softly on her knickers and her breath caught in her throat.

She had never experienced something like it before. Without meaning to, she let out a soft moan, receiving weird looks from her friends, but she didn't care. The sensation of a finger trailed down the inside of her thigh had her standing up sharply, the blood rushing to her head, and she murmured a quick goodbye to her friends.

"Harry," she growled upon reaching his table.

"Something I can give you a _hand _with, Parvati?" he said casually.

His unusual phrase had Hermione frowning at him, but he only had eyes for her.

"Yes, and now," demanded Parvati, her voice pleading.

"Is everything all right?" asked Hermione, looking worried. "Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey? You look a bit … hot."

"You could say that," muttered Parvati. "But no, only Harry can help me. After all, he's the one who got me into this state."

Hermione looked between the two of them, her eyes crinkling in confusion.

"If you continue teasing me like this, I promise I'll get my revenge," Parvati warned. "Now, come on, I've been waiting for this all day."

Harry jumped out of his seat and grabbed her hand, but not without saying. "I'll look forward to seeing what you can do, but for now…" He turned to his friends. "I'll see you two in the morning."

Harry practically ran up the boys' staircase, with Parvati hot on his heels. As soon as she crossed the threshold into the seventh years' dormitory, Harry lifted her off her feet; her legs instantly wrapped around his back and their lips crashed together. The kiss was hard and furious, exactly what she wanted. It made her toes curl. Harry carried her across the room. She expected to be put down on his bed, but he plonked her down on a hard surface. She broke the kiss and blinked at the red cloth.

"Is this a pool table?" she asked, incredulous.

"It's a good way to pass the time," Harry said with a shrug, which was enough of an answer for her at the moment.

Sometime during the kiss, Harry had opened her robe and pushed it off her shoulders. It fell around her waist and she pulled it off completely, leaving herself in just a blouse and a skirt, before she grabbed a fistful of Harry's shirt and pulled him down for another kiss.

Within moments they were both naked and, by unspoken agreement, they paused what they were doing. Harry stared at her, breathing heavily, and she stared back. Her chest was heaving and her hands were shaking, but she felt no shyness as Harry's eyes roamed her naked body.

"How did I get so lucky?" he muttered under his breath.

A number of scars lined his skin, a stark contrast to her darker, unblemished body. Parvati placed her palms on his chest and met his eyes.

"Fuck me, Potter."

And so he did.

Parvati hadn't known what to expect. She didn't know if he was a virgin or if he'd done this countless times before, but he seemed experienced. She hadn't thought he'd be gentle, but at first he was, as though he was testing the waters. She urged him on, which was all the encouragement he needed to know she was fine with him picking up the pace. Her hands tangled in his hair as her breathing became uneven, and she closed her eyes to cherish the moment.

"As you can probably tell," said Harry, "I've been learning spells all afternoon. It worked, I take it?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," said Parvati, moaning into his shoulder. She was in no doubt that he'd done this before, but she didn't care. She was his for the moment, which was all that mattered.

"Do you think it's cheating if I use any of them during sex?" asked Harry.

Parvati pulled back to look at him. Her hair was starting to stick to her forehead now, as was Harry's.

"Use them," she said.

Harry lifted her off the pool table and grabbed his wand.

"First things first, let go," he said.

Parvati's arms stayed around his neck.

"Are you mad?" she said. "I'll fall."

"Trust me," he said, chuckling.

She eyed him warily, but trusted him anyway. She loosened her arms and eventually let herself fall, only she didn't go crashing to the ground. Her body seemed to be as light as the feather Harry had been levitating earlier that day, and she floated horizontally to the ground. It was one of the oddest sensations she'd ever felt.

"By the way, your legs are momentarily glued around me," said Harry. He lifted his arms, proving his point by not holding her in place. "See, no hands."

"This is incredible," she said, waving her arm up and down, amazed at how light it felt.

"Wait until you feel this," said Harry, grinning widely. He trailed his wand across her collarbone, bringing the sensation of someone kissing her skin.

"Merlin, Harry!" She laughed. "How many spells did you learn?"

"A fair few," he said, shrugging it off like it was nothing. "Here's another for you."

He pointed his wand at her again, this time in a general area around her stomach. Nothing happened for a moment, but then fireworks exploded behind her eyes. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to sing, making her twist in mid-air, and her lips parted in a long moan that she couldn't control. It was pleasure like she'd never felt before. It continued for what seemed like a lifetime, but it was over far too quickly. When she opened her eyes, she realised her whole body was trembling.

"Do that again!" she demanded.

Harry complied with her wishes. He had just completed the spell when the door was suddenly flung open. Parvati cried out as her body was overcome with the spell; it somehow hit her even harder than before, and lasted longer. When she opened her eyes this time, she found Ron standing in the doorway, his mouth agape, staring at them. She couldn't muster up any words, but she didn't care that she had an audience. She'd never felt so deliriously happy.

Harry looked over his shoulder at his best friend. "Are you trying to pick up some tips or something?"

Ron blinked, looking dazed. He shook his head and turned away without speaking a word.

"Sorry about that," said Harry. "I forgot to lock the door in all the excitement."

"I don't care," mumbled Parvati.

"Anyway," continued Harry. "I performed another Charm earlier, on myself."

"Did you make yourself bigger or something?"

"No, I didn't, but thank you for the compliment," said Harry. "Put it this way … I have the energy to do this all night, without having to stop, if you catch my meaning."

"If you do this much longer, I think you'll fuck me into a coma," said Parvati.

Harry was about to reply when the door was flung open for a second time, but it wasn't Ron coming back for another look. It was a red-faced Hermione Granger, whose eyes were bulging as she took in the scene.

"Harry James Potter!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Could I trouble you for another? _


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight **

The next morning Harry had a wide smile stretched across his face. If anyone was to see it, they would immediately assume he had just had the best sex of his life. They would happen to be entirely correct.

Harry had been awake for a while. Due to the Stamina Charm he'd performed on himself he hadn't had much sleep, but he'd never felt more awake. He was sitting back against two pillows, arms resting behind his head, completely at ease as he watched the gentle rise and fall of Parvati's chest. She was snuggled against his side, arm slung over his stomach, with a contented smile playing on her lips. Her expensive perfume still clung to the air, invading his nostrils with every breath of air he inhaled, making him giddy and euphoric all at once.

There was a gap in the drapes around the bed, allowing the first few rays of sunlight to penetrate through the open window. It was accompanied by a gentle breeze, which ruffled Harry's hair. It caused goose bumps to form all over Parvati's naked body. Harry eagerly took in the sight. Her legs were long and uncovered, with one leg curled over the duvet. Her toenails were unadorned with nail polish, but pedicured; Harry's eyes trailed up her toned calves to her thighs, until a thin piece of black silk partially hid her hips. Her skin was several shades darker than his own, the colour of caramel and unmarred, and he burned the sight of her into his mind.

She was utterly mesmerising.

The shrill beeping of an alarm cut through the silence. Harry listened to someone clamber out of bed and walk towards the bathroom, until a door closed and the room was silent once more. Harry glanced down at Parvati, but the noise hadn't disrupted her sleep. Even though there were still a few hours until breakfast, he decided to wake her up, which turned out to be a harder task than he anticipated.

Parvati was a heavy sleeper. Harry brushed her hair from her forehead and whispered her name, but the only response he received was a low, satisfied moan. When he said her name again, she only snuggled deeper into the mattress. Harry thought about kissing her, but refrained at the last second. It felt too … romantic, somehow.

"Parvati," he said, slightly louder this time and closer to her ear. "It's time to wake up."

Finally, she showed signs of life. Her eyelids flickered, although remained closed, and her lips parted in a slight whine.

"Wha' time is it?"

"Just gone six," Harry replied cheerfully.

"Oh …" Parvati buried her head in the pillow with a groan, making her next words muffled. "Don't tell me you're a morning person."

"Not normally," admitted Harry. "But when you combine my wonky magic with a Stamina Charm, and then add a few hours of sex into the equation, I don't think I'd give a damn if I was murdered right this very second. In fact, I'm not sure anything can ever top this feeling."

There was a moment of silence in which Harry thought she had fallen back to sleep, but she eventually turned her head and looked at him with curious brown eyes.

"As good as it was, and I really wasn't expecting it to be _that_ good," she said emphatically, "you make it sound like it was your first time."

"Well, in a way," said Harry, lightly shrugging, "I guess it was."

"Are you serious?" Parvati sat up sharply, capturing his attention. Her hair was loose from her normal style, falling messily over her shoulders. The shock on her face slowly gave way to a playful grin. "I can't believe the Chosen One lost his virginity to me!" She laughed in delight. "I was so sure you'd done it before."

"Before you get too cocky, I'm not entirely sure I was a virgin last night," said Harry. "Hermione and Ron said that I was, but I might not have told them."

"I always heard rumours, so I always assumed you had," said Parvati, biting her lip in thought.

While she was thinking, Harry became thoroughly distracted by her breasts. It was hard not be engrossed, when they were so close. Even though he'd become intimately familiar with them last night, it was nowhere near enough.

"My eyes are up here, Harry," said Parvati, grinning.

Harry's eyes flickered up to hers. "Yes, they are," he said, and then he lowered his gaze again. "But as lovely as your eyes are, they're never covered, so I'm making the most of this."

Chuckling under her breath, Parvati crossed her arms over her chest, making Harry groan with disappointment. He pouted at her, but she didn't budge.

"Sorry," she said, "but you can see them as much as you like tonight, if you want?"

"Damn right I want," Harry agreed instantly.

"Then you have to make sure you don't get a detention," she said, poking a finger into his thigh. "As fun as it was, I don't want to be up for half of the night again. I need my sleep, so we'll start early tonight."

"I'll be on my best behaviour," promised Harry.

"Good," she said, leaning forward to give him a lingering kiss. "We've got Potions this afternoon, so be extra careful. Snape's taken points off you before for breathing too loudly."

Harry privately thought it didn't matter if Snape gave him a detention, because he simply wouldn't attend. Nothing was going to stop him from another night with Parvati.

"You know, we've got a free period until we have to go to Potions," said Parvati, her voice taking on a suggestive tone. She teasingly trailed her fingernails up his thigh. "I have nowhere I need to be until then …"

"Oh, do you have something in mind?" Harry asked innocently.

"If you have somewhere else to be, just tell me to stop," she said, matching his tone as she leaned forwards to trail kisses down his chest.

Harry was enjoying the moment when a traitorous thought wormed its way into his mind.

"Actually," he said, grimacing, "Ron's holding Quidditch try-outs this morning and he's making me go."

"What?" Parvati paused, her lips millimetres from his skin, to look up at him. "I thought you were the captain?"

"I was, but I lost the captaincy after the knock to my noggin," said Harry, rapping his knuckles against his skull. "I forgot how to play the bloody game, so it's not all that surprising I lost it, really."

"And Ron's holdings try-outs today?" asked Parvati, disbelief in her voice. "We've been back for three days!"

"I said the same thing, but it makes sense if you think about it. As Ron explained, everybody's free to attend the try-outs this early in the year. No one is bogged down by homework or studying for upcoming exams."

"But haven't most people got classes this morning?" asked Parvati.

"McGonagall is allowing them to miss the morning classes," Harry told her. Parvati seemed baffled by that. "I wish I didn't have to bloody go, though. I haven't got the first clue how to play the damn game."

Parvati frowned. "I thought you loved flying?"

"Oh, I do," said Harry. "I just don't know how to play Quidditch."

"You're a Seeker," said Parvati, shrugging lightly. "All you have to do is chase the Snitch. It shouldn't be too hard."

"Maybe you should join the team, if you think it's so easy."

"Oh, I'm awful at riding a broomstick."

"You weren't too bad last night," muttered Harry, unable to stop himself.

Parvati snorted. "Neither were you, Potter. You handled it pretty well, considering you were a virgin. I nearly collapsed by the time we were finished."

Harry's chest swelled. He just wished someone else could have heard her comments, although he was still planning on bragging about it every chance he got. He wondered if Parvati would do the same. Probably. She'd seemed thrilled to find out she was his first.

"I was brilliant, wasn't I? Even when we were interrupted, I didn't stop. That takes control, doesn't it?"

Parvati burst out laughing. "Oh, I just remembered the look on Hermione's face!" she said. "I can't believe you asked her if she wanted to join in!"

Harry made a mental note to avoid Hermione for as long as possible. He wasn't sure what her problem was, but she'd looked completely pissed off with him. He couldn't think why … unless she was jealous. Yes, that was probably it.

"It shut her up pretty sharpish, didn't it? That was the only way to do it," insisted Harry. "She would've gone on all night otherwise."

"I suppose so …" A gleam entered Parvati's eyes, and she swung her leg over him, straddling his waist. "I don't suppose you fancy applying a few more charms, do you?" She smiled wickedly. "I fancy working up an appetite. Don't make a joke about sausages!"

"I wasn't going to," said Harry, failing to act offended. He welcomed the kisses she started trailing up his abdomen; he had a good view of her lower back and the curve of her derrière. Parvati raised an eyebrow, doubting his words. "What? I wasn't. Really. Now, eggs on the other hand …" He starting chuckling to himself, remembering the joke Fred had told him. "How do you like your eggs in the morning?"

"Unfertilised," said Parvati, rolling her eyes. "Speaking of, it's lucky I perform the Contraceptive Charm on myself every six months, isn't it? I would've completely forgotten last night."

"I performed something similar," said Harry. There was no way in hell he would just leave that to the girl he was sleeping with. He'd performed three different variations of contraceptive charms just to make sure. There weren't going to be little Potters running around any time soon, not as long as he could help it. "Now, enough talk. I'm sure there are better things to be doing with that mouth of yours."

"I'm pretty sure I said that to you last night, didn't I?" said Parvati. At Harry's nod, she shrugged. "Then I suppose it's only fair I repay the favour."

Harry felt like crying with happiness. He didn't, because he was a man, and men didn't cry over such things, so he settled for cheering instead. Parvati didn't even blink. If anything, she took it as an incentive to try and make him cheer some more.

She succeeded.

* * *

><p>Harry avoided breakfast altogether. His willpower was severely tested as he passed the Great Hall, when the smell of crisp bacon reached him, but he managed to continue walking. Parvati had kept him in bed for longer than either of them had realised, but he wasn't complaining. It meant he was late to the try-outs, which was why he wasn't stuffing his face full of food.<p>

The sunshine that had shone into the seventh years' dormitory earlier in the morning had been chased away by angry grey clouds. There wasn't a hint of the sun anymore, but rain had yet to fall. The chill in the air forced Harry to tighten his robes across his chest as he stepped onto the Hogwarts grounds. A scowl made its way onto his face as walked towards the Quidditch pitch, where he started to hear the voices of his classmates. When he arrived he found the crowd was bigger than he'd expected. It seemed most of Gryffindor had shown up.

Ron was surrounded by a group of four people, with a clipboard in his hand and a scowl to match Harry's. Off to the side, other groups had gathered, nervously holding their brooms as they waited. Ron was ignoring them for now. He happened to raise his eyes over the clipboard and spot Harry.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, gesturing furiously. "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago!"

"Oh, was I?" said Harry, feigning confusion. "Sorry 'bout that. I slept late. You know how it is."

Ron's teeth clenched together. "Don't give me that crap," he ground out. "I sleep in the bed right next to you, Harry. You didn't put a Silencing Charm around your bed last night, and you weren't exactly quiet."

Harry hadn't really given it much thought. Now that he was thinking about it, he found that he didn't really care.

"Huh," he said.

"He's right," said Dean Thomas. The black boy was standing next to Ginny, holding her hand. He wasn't looking anywhere near as angry as Ron was, but he didn't look happy. "We had to silence our beds from outside noise, in the end."

Ron nodded furiously in agreement. "I heard you when I got up this morning, too," he said, his ginger eyebrows drawing close. "I heard you … cheering. I'm pretty sure I heard clapping, too."

Ginny whistled through her front teeth. "Impressive," she said, and she giggled at the look of disgust on Ron's face. "Well, it was impressive if it was Parvati."

"It was." Harry puffed himself up. "She loves it when I use my tongue to—"

"Harry!" interrupted Dean, alarm written all over his face. Harry noticed his free hand, the one not holding Ginny's, was curled into a fist by his side. "Please, I don't want to hear about Parvati like that. She's one of my best friends."

Ginny gave Dean a hard stare. He must have passed the test, because Ginny leaned up on her toes to give him a long kiss. Dean's fingers finally relaxed, but Harry filed the information away for later.

Ron's lip curled. He looked like he'd just stepped in dog shit.

"Do you mind?" he demanded. "This is a Quidditch try-out, not a … a … an orgy!"

Harry snorted. "Introduce some alcohol, a mud pit, and some music, and I'm sure we could get one started."

"Thanks for that, Harry," snarled Ron. He was more concerned with his sister, though, who had completely ignored him. "Seriously, I thought I told you two not to do that in front of me!"

Harry wondered if Ron had ever thought of what they got up to when he, and other prying eyes, weren't around. He was probably refusing to believe the truth. Harry was about to happily tell him what they were likely doing in private, when Dean and Ginny finally broke apart. The youngest Weasley rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Why don't you just tell us what you want us to do?" she asked, exasperated. "We've been hanging around for ages."

Harry nodded in approval. "And let me go first, yeah? I'm freezing my nuts off out here."

"Fine!" Ron whirled around, pointing towards the aspiring players. "Oi, wannabe Seekers, come here!"

Twelve people instantly surrounded Ron, Ginny, and Harry. Dean stepped back, muttering about not wanting to fly against Harry. Ron had a doubtful look on his face as he looked around the group, which consisted of three second years, one of which was a muggleborn holding the broomstick the wrong way round.

"Right," he said, clearly not convinced by them. "Now that you're all warmed up." He glanced at Harry. "Well, nearly all of you. Anyway, here's the Snitch. See it? Good. Whoever catches this the most is Gryffindor's newest Seeker." Ron released the Snitch, and they all watched it zoom out of sight.

Ron paired them off and told the first couple to go and find the Snitch. They were both second years, clearly not expected to make the team. Harry watched them go, before he turned to Ron and pulled him away from the group.

"What is it?" asked Ron, confused. "Are you worried or something?"

"Me? Hah! As if," said Harry, waving away Ron's silly suggestion. "No, I just want to know why you're making me try out. Have you seen this bunch of idiots?" He jabbed a thumb towards the cluster of people. "You know I'm going to win. And you've already said Ginny's going for Chaser, so why is she even doing this?"

Ron sighed. "I can't just give you the position, can I? People would think I'm favouring you," he explained. "And I wanted Ginny here, so you would at least have a bit of competition."

"You'd better hope one of the little brats doesn't get a lucky catch in," said Harry, not believing for a second he would be beaten. "Or you'll be stuck with them for the rest of the year."

Twelve hopefuls soon turned into six with a chance. Harry and Ginny had qualified into the next round with relative ease. The third year boy she'd flown against had been so distracted by her breasts he'd nearly flown straight into the stands. Harry had an even easier time of it, when a first year girl had asked him for an autograph as they prepared to chase the Snitch. As soon as he'd granted her wish, she'd clutched the parchment to her chest and ran off to her friends, completely abandoning the try-out.

When it was finally down to just three, Harry, Ginny, and a fifth year boy remained. Harry swung his leg over his broom, paying no attention whatsoever to his competition. As soon as Ron blew his whistle, Harry shot off down the field, having already spotted the Snitch. Just as held out his to catch it, the golden ball abruptly changed direction and flew away.

"Oh, you little bastard!"

Harry tore after it. His flying was extremely erratic; a group of first and second year girls sitting in the stands were forced to duck as he flew over them. Ginny was by his side in seconds, shoving him out of the way.

"Oi!"

Harry couldn't deny the thrill of the chase. He was back besides Ginny in seconds. There was no way in hell she was beating him. As they flew towards the centre of the pitch, she stretched out her hand, but Harry's arm was longer and he snatched it out from under her nose.

"Ha!" crowed Harry, lifting his arm in triumph.

Harry and Ginny were the first to arrive back to Ron. Ginny didn't look too upset that she'd missed out on making the Seeker position, but Harry tried to console her anyway.

"Sorry about that, Ginny," he said. "If you want, I'll buy you dinner in Hogsmeade. Perhaps we can book a room for the night while we're there?"

Ginny started chuckling, having grown somewhat used to him over the summer, but Ron just stared at him. Finally, he held out his hand and Harry gave him the Snitch.

"You're Seeker, Harry," he said, his voice strained.

"Does this mean I can go?" Harry asked hopefully. "I need a shower."

"Yes," said Ron stiffly. "There are showers in the changing rooms."

There hadn't been enough time to shower before the try-outs (he'd already been late), so he headed straight there. As he walked away, he looked back over his shoulder.

"Oi, Ginny. Fancy joining me?"

Ron's shoulders stiffened, but Ginny burst out laughing and raised her middle finger in response.

* * *

><p>Harry managed to avoid Hermione all morning by hiding in an abandoned classroom. He really wasn't in the mood for a lecture from her. He could only imagine the amount of steam she'd managed to build up overnight.<p>

The classroom he'd found was on the second floor. There were large windows along one wall, bathing the room in light. A bookshelf stood at the back of the room, from floor to ceiling, full of dusty tomes that looked like they'd not been read in decades. At the front of the room was an oak desk, with a rickety chair behind it.

Harry plucked a few of the more interesting titles from the bookshelf and sat down with them, putting his feet up on the desk. The first book he opened was on potions, which he almost immediately discarded after the first page. Instead of containing any information he thought would be useful to know, it was a theory on the origin of cauldrons.

The second book he picked up was thick, containing advanced charms and spells. It was written by an ex-Auror, who told stories of his days catching dark wizards, along with which spells he'd used against them, and which ones they'd used against him.

A familiar feeling settled in Harry's gut as he read, one which he couldn't explain. It was almost like he'd read the book before. Figuring that he'd read it before he'd defeated Voldemort and subsequently lost all his memories, he continued to read. The familiarity only intensified.

He picked up his third and last book, which was called 'The Art of War'. It was obviously written many years ago, as it explained how transfiguration and the Dark Arts had been used to devastating effect by Gellert Grindelwald. The second chapter went deeper into the detail, but Harry didn't feel out of his depth like he knew he should have been feeling. If anything his brain went into overdrive, throwing up thoughts on improving methods to neutralise Grindelwald's deadliest spells.

The hairs on Harry's arms were standing on end by the time he'd finished the fourth chapter. His magic was singing in his very bones, aching to be free from its chains. Hundreds of spells flew through his mind, too fast for him to properly comprehend. The information was in his head, but he couldn't access it. He tried to remember incantations, but only became irritated when they weren't forthcoming.

The noise of the bell signalling the beginning of class brought him out of his thoughts. He realised he'd missed lunch, and he should have been making his way to Potions, but he didn't move from his spot behind the desk.

The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, highlighting motes of dust floating in the musty air. His hand automatically found his wand as he eyed them, curious, wondering …

He brought up his wand, aiming it at a particular speck of dust. Was it even possible, he thought? Could something he could barely see be transfigured? Feeling a little unsure, his magic reacted instinctively.

A bright flash blinded Harry, forcing him to throw his hands over his eyes. He heard, rather than saw, the surprised cry of a blackbird. Harry chanced a look and jerked his head away from the bird, which had headed straight for him.

"Whoa!"

The blackbird settled on the desk, glaring at him. Harry took his chance, managing to transfigure the bird into a comfy, fluffed up cushion, which he placed on the chair beneath him.

Just as his heart stopped racing the cushion exploded in a cloud of black feathers, sending him crashing into the desk. A flock of birds had suddenly appeared, attacking him as he tried valiantly to fend them off. He managed to get off the desk, shouting at top of his lungs as he waved his wand around like a madman. The birds started disappearing one by one until, finally, none remained.

Harry collapsed onto the chair, relief flooding through him. Someone coughed lightly from the doorway, and Harry leapt to his feet, heart pounding once more.

A petite girl was standing in the doorway, looking at him with wide blue eyes. Harry stared back at her. She had auburn hair, which was currently tied back in a ponytail. When she finally spoke, it was with a quiet voice.

"Are you … are you okay?" Her hand was still on the doorknob, as though she wasn't sure whether to stay or turn and run.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," said Harry. He dropped back into the chair, taking no notice of his badly ruffled robes or the tiny but deep cuts in the back of his hands. He looked at the girl, who still hadn't moved. Hermione had tried to get him to remember who everyone was, at least the students in the same year. She had shown him pictures and, if he remembered correctly, her name was Megan Jones. He was fairly sure it was, because he clearly remembered thinking how pretty she was. "It was just a spell gone wrong," he added. "You know how is."

Megan eyed him curiously. "No, not really."

"What, you've never had a spell gone wrong?" Harry frowned at her. "Are you some sort of prodigy with a wand or something?"

"Oh no, I don't mean that!" Megan was quick to start shaking her head from side to side. "I just meant I've never tried a difficult spell without a professor's supervision."

"Huh," said Harry. Megan had still not moved from the door. "Do you want to come in?"

Megan blinked, as if surprised, but slowly nodded. She shut the door and moved to the front of the desk, where she took a seat.

"I don't mean to pry or anything, but shouldn't you be in Potions right now?"

Harry shrugged. "I'll get there when I get there."

Megan's eyes widened. "You do know who Professor Snape is, don't you?"

"Sure I do," said Harry. "What are you doing roaming the halls during class? Meeting a boyfriend?"

Megan blushed a furious scarlet, and she dipped her head, refusing to meet his eyes as she mumbled under her breath.

"What was that?" asked Harry, frowning.

"I said I haven't got a boyfriend," said Megan, sighing. "No one has ever asked me out."

"Seriously?" Harry blurted out.

Megan jumped out of her chair. "I've got to go!" she exclaimed, a look of horror in her eyes. She was throwing open the door before Harry had time to say anything, and then she was gone.

Harry was left wondering what the hell had just happened. The entire encounter left him feeling baffled. He tried to start reading the ex-Auror's book once more, but Megan remained in the back of his mind. She'd managed to intrigue him.

He never did get to Potions.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

Harry was experiencing a severe case of déjà vu the next morning. He'd woken up in exactly the same position as he had the morning before, with Parvati asleep next to him, her steady breathing warm on his chest. It instantly put a grin on his lips. It wasn't every day you woke up next to a beautiful girl, and a naked one at that.

Harry chanced a peek out of the drapes, spotting that Neville was missing from his bed. There were a thousand and one reasons why he'd been awake so early for two days in a row, but only one reason for it in Harry's mind: Neville had himself a girlfriend. Why else would he be out of bed at such an ungodly hour?

Harry didn't think he would be able to get back to sleep any time soon. The Stamina Charm had finally worn off the night before, just as he met Parvati in the common room. He'd nearly collapsed on the way up to the dormitory, prompting Parvati to offer him the chance to rest. There was no way in hell Harry would turn down sex for something as silly as exhaustion, and he'd told her as much.

This was how Parvati wound up staying the night in Harry's bed (for the second night in a row), and how Harry woke up at the ungodly hour of six for two days running.

While Harry's sexual frustration had been completely relieved, a new frustration had taken its place. Because his magic wasn't as it should be, a simple _finite_ wouldn't work – at all. He could say the word and point his wand at himself a hundred times, but nothing would happen. It wasn't exactly difficult for even a first year to pull off, and Harry didn't have a clue why it wasn't working for him. A simple _finite_ just before he fell asleep would mean he wouldn't be waking up at six, and then he wouldn't be at all frustrated. Even Parvati had tried to cancel the charm, but it still hadn't worked.

However, Harry could see one benefit from waking up so early, if the previous morning's activities was anything to go by. Parvati had mentioned the night before how much she liked her sleep, but it did mean she was usually late for breakfast. Like the morning before, Harry decided to wake her up, and like the morning before, it took some convincing on his part before she did.

Parvati cracked one eye open and glared at him through a curtain of dark hair. She made a noise of protest in the back of her throat, somewhere between a moan and a grunt, and promptly fell back asleep. Her peaceful slumber didn't last very long, however, because Harry woke her up again.

"D'you have to wake me up so early?" she demanded, pouting.

Harry thought it looked remarkably cute, although he'd deny such thoughts until he was blue in the face if anyone asked. He couldn't resist kissing her, which had the added benefit of cheering her up, if only slightly.

"Just think, you have Divination first lesson," said Harry. Once Hermione had told him what Divination consisted of, Harry had immediately scoffed at the subject. Then he'd found out a prophecy had dictated much of his own life, but he'd scoffed at that as well.

Upon hearing how early it was, Parvati huffed loudly into her pillow and refused to move. She still didn't move when Harry grabbed the blanket and threw it off her naked body, although she did give an exaggerated shiver.

"Harry!"

"Do you want a massage or not?" asked Harry pointedly. As he expected, Parvati couldn't say no, although she did narrow her eyes at him when she saw his innocent expression.

"Don't think I'll just have sex with you just because you're doing this for me," she warned.

Harry simply smiled, and said, "I wouldn't dream of it."

He was lying, of course, which they both knew. It didn't matter though, because Parvati snorted at the obvious lie, dropped her head back onto the pillow and closed her eyes. Harry cracked his knuckles and got to work. It took precisely three minutes for his concentration to drift and his hands to wander, by which time they'd gone from her shoulders to the bottom of her back, and then continued south. When he reached her thighs and realised he hadn't given her much of a massage, but more or less felt her up, he refrained from going any further.

After massaging her thighs for close to five minutes, Parvati finally had enough of what she thought was him teasing her, and growled at him to just get started already.

Needless to say, Harry did exactly as he was told. As he did he wondered if life could possibly get any more perfect. Well, he told himself, as soon as he worked out how to use _finite_, it most definitely would be.

It wasn't a shock to either of them that a quick massage had turned to sex, and Harry cheered for the second morning in a row.

This time, Parvati joined him.

* * *

><p>"Say, Ron," said Harry. "Did you hear me cheering earlier? More to the point, did you hear Parvati cheering earlier?"<p>

"Of course I heard you," muttered Ron, his head in his trunk. "You stuck your heads out of the drapes and cheered in my face!"

They were in the dormitory. Ron had claimed he needed to sort out his personal belongings. That was the reason his head was in his trunk, his clothes were scattered over his bed, and his arms were covered in ink.

Harry had showered and dressed, and was now lounging on his bed and messing around with Ron's guitar (which he was playing rather atrociously). He was amusing himself by winding up the redhead. It was, he'd discovered a while back, a rather easy thing to accomplish.

Ron flinched when Harry strummed the guitar again. Although it was in tune, even Harry admitted that when he played it, it sounded worse than Hermione singing in the shower. He happened to say that out loud, and Ron's head jerked up out of his trunk.

"When have you heard Hermione singing in the shower?" he demanded.

The guitars' strings stilled, and a small smirk appeared on Harry's lips. He'd noticed recently that Ron's feelings for their bushy haired friend were only deepening.

"At your place," said Harry, deciding for once to tell the truth. A second later, he decided against it, when he added, "Did I forget to tell you? Well, I walked in on her one morning." He winked at Ron, whose face was steadily reddening. "There she was, washing that bush on her head, and singing her little heart out. Naturally I asked her if she wanted me to help scrub her back."

Ron looked like his worst nightmare had just come to life before his very eyes. His eyes were wide, and his whole body shook with, Harry guessed, pure rage.

"Hermione was so shocked that she didn't respond right away," continued Harry, wondering if he was about to get punched on the nose. It didn't stop him though; Ron's reactions were far too funny for that. And what was a little punch on the nose? It wasn't like it would kill him. "When I said I was desperately in need of a shower too, Hermione asked me to join her. You can guess what happened next, if you want, or shall I tell you?"

Ron clenched his eyes shut, and Harry swore he heard him counting down from twenty under his breath. The redhead stopped shaking, and his cheeks slowly turned back to their pale self. When he opened his eyes again, he looked straight at Harry.

"Why do you like pissing me off so much?"

"It's fun," Harry said, shrugging.

"It's not for me!"

Harry stood up from the bed, placed the guitar back on Ron's bed, and stretched. The conversation was boring him now. On top of that, the tips of his fingers were starting to hurt. Who knew that playing guitar could be mildly painful?

"Well, you like pissing Hermione off, don't you?" said Harry.

"No, I don't!" Ron stood up as well, his trunk now empty apart from a layer of spilled ink.

"Sure you do," said Harry. "You're always saying things to her, under your breath but loud enough for her to hear. Like you want her to get angry at you." A sudden light bulb went off in Harry's head, while Ron's face now completely lost what little colour it had. "Aha! That's it! You think if you piss her off then she'll give you her full attention."

Ron's mouth opened but no words formed for a long moment, until he managed to burst out with, "Well she likes pissing me off too! She's always nagging me to do something."

Harry was only half listening now. He kicked open his own trunk, which he hadn't bothered to search through since being released from St. Mungo's. He wasn't sure what he'd find, but it was bound to be more interesting than the current topic of conversation. He eyed the mound of spellbooks and clothes, hoping none of his ink pots had smashed.

"Even if you ever grow the balls to actually tell her how you feel, do you really think you two would ever work out?" Harry refrained from sighing. Even though he could only remember the past few months, it wasn't difficult to tell a girl you wanted to be with her. "I mean, it's like Hermione winds you up just so you'll piss her off. Makes no sense at all to me."

"It's not that easy," Ron said stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest. He'd completely abandoned sorting out his belongings now, and was perched on the side of his bed.

"It really is that easy." Harry lifted up a green dress robe, eyed it in confusion, and threw it on the bed. "I don't know why you're so worried about it."

"Maybe it's easy for you," said Ron, huffing. "But for those of us not named Harry Potter, it's not! I can't just walk up to Hermione, tell her she's more beautiful than any veela, and then kiss her. And I certainly can't tell her 'I bet you fuck like a tiger'!"

Upon remembering saying those exact words to Parvati, Harry laughed heartily, the noise bouncing off the dormitory walls. "And you know what?" he said. "She really does. Fuck like a tiger, I mean."

Ron opened his mouth to respond, but his words got lost from his brain to his mouth, and no sound came. His brow furrowed. "Hermione would kill me if I said that to her."

"Of course she wouldn't," Harry said, snorting. "She'd probably pounce on you then and there. If anyone needs a good old shagging, it's that girl."

"It's more than just a shag!" Ron exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

Harry's hand automatically went into his trunk, only this time it went straight down to the bottom. Everything that had been inside was now on his bed. He stood up, looked at Ron, and bit back another sigh. He wasn't sure what Ron wanted to hear from him, but he knew it wasn't what he was about to say.

"If you don't tell her, do you mind if I do?"

"Do I mind if you do what?" asked Ron, a hint of fire in his blue eyes.

Harry offered Ron his most charming smile, and said, "Do you mind if I go up to Hermione, tell her she's more beautiful than Fleur could ever dream of being, tell her I bet she fucks like a tiger, and then kiss her then and there."

Ron's hands were balled into fists by his side. Instead of punching Harry, he stormed out of the dormitory without saying a word.

"Well," Harry said, noticing his snake curled around one of the bedposts, and switched to Parseltongue almost without thinking, "that went well."

"_You humans mate in the most remarkable of positions," _said the snake.

Harry wondered if the snake was a bit of a pervert, but discarded the idea almost immediately. One thing he'd learnt from talking to the snake was that they simply didn't care about sex unless it was used to procreate. Or to mock Harry.

"Fancy some breakfast?" asked Harry. "I'm sure I can find something for you to eat."

The snake shook its head, slithering down onto the bed, where it curled into a tight coil. _"I have already swallowed a frog. I caught it under the bed across the room." _Its tongue flicked out. _"It was very tasty." _

Harry tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed in thought. What had a frog been doing in the dormitory? He thought about it for a second, but then shrugged.

"Ah well," he said to the snake. "I'll speak to you later."

Harry whistled a cheery tune as he left the room, leaving all his belongings in a mess on his bed. He paused with his foot on the top step of the stairs, thinking about the upcoming confrontation with Hermione. He just hoped he'd managed to convince Ron to express his feelings to her. With any luck, she would be so distracted (and maybe even caught up in a shag in a broom cupboard), that she would completely forget about Harry.

If all else failed, Harry was seriously thinking of slipping a Calming Drought in her pumpkin juice.

* * *

><p>Hermione was in the Great Hall, absently nibbling on a slice of buttered toast, completely lost in thought. She was jolted out those thoughts moments later, when Ron nudged her shin with the toe of his shoe under the table.<p>

"Ron," she said, blinking rapidly. "Have you seen Harry?"

Ron's jaw clenched upon hearing Harry's name, and he refused to meet Hermione's eyes. The tips of his ears went red, and Hermione assumed that Harry had said or done something. It wouldn't be the first time. She could guess what he'd done. It didn't take a genius to figure it out.

"Parvati stayed the night again, didn't she?" said Hermione sympathetically.

"Huh?" Ron's eyes showed confusion for a moment, before he nodded. "Oh, yeah. She did." He stabbed his egg with his fork. "She only left an hour or so ago."

Hermione took another bite of toast. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of Harry since … that night. It was rather obvious he was avoiding her, and he'd done a remarkably good job of doing so. He'd skived off classes, which irritated her, although Snape had actually smiled. Hermione repressed a shudder at the image. She'd never seen him smile before, and she never wanted to see it again. It had only been for the briefest of milliseconds, but it was enough to make her want to violently hurt the man.

"Listen, Hermione," Ron said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He was pushing his fork around the plate, refusing to look at her once again. "I need to tell you something. It's just … well, I'm not sure how to say it. Harry said … and I mean … it's not like I'm just saying it because—"

"For goodness sake, Ron," said Hermione, starting to get dizzy from listening to him ramble. "What on earth is the problem?"

Ron deflated before her very eyes. "I can't say," he mumbled despairingly. He got to his feet, his breakfast mostly untouched. "I'm sorry. I can't do it, not like this. I'll see you later."

Hermione frowned as she watched him walk away from her, all the way out of the Hall. He'd sounded so … broken. It made her want to rush after him and force him to admit what he wanted to say, but then she saw Harry stroll into the Hall, whistling. He looked like he didn't have a care in the world. It was a refreshing change from his past demeanour, and it made her smile. She'd wanted him to be happy and carefree since she'd known him, and now that he was, she found she hadn't been prepared for what that entailed. He was acting like the teenager he was, one that he had never been able to be.

Harry sat down opposite her, the seat which Ron had just vacated, and begun piling food onto his plate.

"You've been avoiding me, Harry Potter," said Hermione.

"Yes," said Harry. "Yes, I have."

"I'm sorry about deliberately walking in on you and Parvati," said Hermione. She felt her cheeks start to burn, but ignored her embarrassment. "When Ron came back down to the common room and told me what you were doing, I was a bit …"

"Jealous?" asked Harry, grinning.

"NO!" Hermione glared at him, which he ignored, of course. "I was concerned, actually. I know you're seventeen, and certainly not the only one having sex in the castle, but this is so unlike you. You never did anything like this before the … well, before." Hermione whipped her to the left, where Dean was sitting, and to the right, which was free of anyone. She lowered her voice. "You've never had the talk, Harry. Did you even think to use protection?"

Harry's hand paused halfway to his mouth, where he was holding a fork, which was speared into a sausage. "I may have lost my memories, Hermione, but I'm not stupid." His eyes took on a mischievous look, one which Hermione had come to know very well. "I take it you have had the talk, then?"

"Of course," said Hermione. "My mum sat me down when I was ten."

"Oh?" said Harry. "Well, I'm sure my dad would have, but seeing as he's not around, perhaps you can take his place?" He bit into the end of his sausage. "Since you seem so determined to tell me all about it, give me the details, Hermione."

Hermione stuttered horribly, white as a sheet. This wasn't what she'd had in mind. Nevertheless, she was Harry's friend, and she would do her best. Thinking back to what her mum had told her, she discarded it almost immediately. That talk had been directed at a ten year old, not a seventeen year old whose hormones were out of control.

"What would you like to know?" asked Hermione, her voice barely audible.

Harry grinned. "Tell me, what is a clitoris?"

From next to Hermione, Dean violently coughed. Hermione flinched, watching Dean thump his chest with his fist. When he finally recovered, he looked at them, eyes wide.

"You two have really interesting topics to discuss over breakfast, don't you?" He shook his head, as if in disbelief, and looked at Harry. "And don't give me that bollocks, mate. Stop winding Hermione up."

"Way to ruin the fun, Thomas. I was just getting started!" Harry whined. "I didn't even get to ask her how old she was when she first had her period, or started growing hair…" Harry met Hermione's eyes and winked, "… down there."

Hermione didn't know what made her say it, but she boldly replied, "I think the better question would be, do I still have hair _down there _now…" Hermione smirked in satisfaction, watching Dean's jaw drop and Harry's eyes grow wide. "And I'll have you know that I don't, thank you very much."

"Fucking hell," muttered Dean, rising from his seat. "This just got way too weird for me."

Hermione watched him go, and then turned to Harry. She suddenly felt very self-conscious, and wondered what on earth had possessed her to say something so immature. She blamed it on Harry, of course.

"I think it's a damned good thing you do shave," said Harry. "I can only imagine you'd need to, if the hair on your head is any indication to go by. It'd be like traipsing through an unexplored forest in search of a rare _pussy_ … cat."

Hermione dropped her head into her hands, groaning pitifully. "You're not funny, Harry."

Harry laughed. "You can't even tell me off now, after what you said."

"Only because you're so disgusting! It's rubbing off on me!" snarled Hermione. She saw Harry's lips quirk in a grin, and added, "And don't you dare make a joke about you rubbing off on me!"

Harry laughed even harder. "What about a joke where you rub off on me, and not I on you?" He held up his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. Tell me what Ron said to you. I saw him leave here when I came in."

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "You know exactly what he wanted to tell me, don't you?"

"I sure do."

"Well, he didn't say very much at all," said Hermione, frowning.

"Ah," said Harry. Hermione swore he looked disappointed. "Tell me, Hermione, what's our first lesson?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Then I think we'd best get there. Unless you fancy staying here, of course," said Harry. "You can tell me all about your first orgasm."

Hermione just threw her leftover piece of toast at him, which he managed to dodge just in time. The toast sailed over his head and smacked Pansy Parkinson on the back of the head, causing Harry to laugh all the way to class.

* * *

><p>"Good morning," said Remus Lupin upon entering his classroom full of seventh year students. He wasted no time in beating around the bush. "I'm sure your other professors have told you already, but this year is N.E.W.T year, and it will be the most difficult year of all."<p>

Predictably, the students groaned at him, with the exception of Hermione and Harry. Hermione looked eager to get started, while Harry seemed to be whispering in her ear, making her face go a curious mix of embarrassed and … Remus wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Now, since you've had six different professors in six different years, I thought I'd start off with a little test." There were more groans, and a gleam entered Hermione's eyes. "Not to worry. You'll find this isn't a normal test. Today will be focused entirely on the basics, so to speak. I assure you that the work will become much harder as we progress through the year, but today we will be casting just two spells." Remus saw the surprise etched into the students faces. "Stand up everyone, and allow me to clear the room."

Once the desks were pushed up against the far wall, and the students were silent again, Remus continued. "We'll start with the Stunning Spell. I trust you all know the incantation?"

As expected, Hermione's hand flew up instantly. "Stupefy, Remus," she said, and then blushed. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I meant to say Professor Lupin."

"That's quite all right, Miss Granger," said Remus with a kind smile. "Ten points to Gryffindor for your answer. The second spell is the Shield Charm. I assume, like the Stunning Spell, you all know the incantation?"

"Nope," said Harry, the only one to speak.

Malfoy laughed derisively. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Hey!" snarled Ron. "He still beat your master, didn't he?"

"Now, now," interjected Remus, keeping his smile firmly in place. "For those that don't know, the incantation is _Protego. _Now, I want you to form a line." He waited for them do just that, before he continued. "Good. When I call your name, I want you to first shield yourself from my Stunning Spell. If you manage to do so, you will have your chance to attempt to stun me. All spells must be cast silently."

Draco Malfoy suddenly looked a lot more interested in this lesson, and so did a few others. However, because he'd been dawdling, he was stuck near the back of the line and forced to wait. The first person up was Hermione Granger, who expertly stopped Remus's Stunning Spell. In turn, Remus blocked her own attempt.

"Very well done, Miss Granger." Remus smiled. He'd expected no less. "Take another ten points."

Ron's shield held firm, and Remus blocked the return fire. The trend continued with Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and Parvati Patil. If Remus remembered correctly, they had all been taught by none other than Harry, who was up next.

Harry held eye contact with Remus. The werewolf hesitated. Harry wasn't on par with his classmates due to his accident. He'd heard from McGonagall and Flitwick that Harry's magic was acting a little strange. The spell Remus sent at Harry was weaker than his previous attempts, and he held his breath in hope. Harry brought up his wand, but the confidence in his eyes disappeared when his wand produced no results. The Stunning Spell smacked into his forehead, instantly knocking him out.

Malfoy roared with laughter. "Did you see him?" Malfoy flung his wand up and down, imitating Harry's attempt, and laughed again. "A squib could do better! Merlin, Longbottom practically is a squib, and he managed to do it."

Neville stepped forward, a steely glint in his gaze, holding his wand loosely by his side. "If you're so certain of yourself, Malfoy, why don't you show me what you can do?"

"Neville," hissed Hermione. "You're Head Boy, you shouldn't be goading him like this."

"That's all right," said Harry, who was now awake, courtesy of Remus. "I'll give Malfoy a duel if he wants one."

"Really?" drawled Malfoy. "Did you hit your head again when the werewolf stunned you?" Then, without warning, he snapped his wand down across his body, shooting a spell straight at Harry's chest.

Remus recognised the spell as a Nose-Growing Curse, and raised his wand to shield Harry from harm. However, Harry got there before him. The black haired teenager, who reminded Remus so much of James and Sirius, lifted his wand and batted the spell away with a casual flick of his wand. Remus felt his jaw slacken. Where had that come from?

Harry tilted his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. "Try again, Draco."

Malfoy snarled fiercely, bringing his wand forward to unleash another spell. Remus watched the red beam of light leave the end of the wand, recognising it instantly as the Stunner. Malfoy was obviously holding back from deadlier spells with a teacher in the room.

Harry simply raised his wand, catching the spell with its tip. A collective gasp spread across the watching students, and Remus couldn't help but swell with pride.

"I think you'll find I'm not quite useless," said Harry, his calm demeanour suddenly turning savage. He made a slow circular motion with his wand, which ended with a flick, and the Stunning Spell rocketed back at Malfoy. A shield sprang into place, blocking the spell. What the blond boy didn't expect was another spell, hidden half a second behind his own Stunner, to pierce his shield. Malfoy didn't have enough time to recast it, and Harry's next spell hit him square in the midsection.

A moment of silence passed in which nothing happened and everyone held their breath. Then, Malfoy was suddenly standing there as naked as the day he was born, his clothing having completely vanished into thin air. Hastily covering his bits, Malfoy dropped his wand, his face burning. It was Hermione, oddly enough, who was the first to crack up. It instantly made Ron join her, and then most of them were roaring with laughter.

Pansy Parkinson had the good sense to cover up her boyfriend with a conjured robe.

"I'm so sorry, Pansy," said Harry, turning to the girl who was as wide eyed as her boyfriend. "I think every boy in this room suddenly feels a lot better about themselves."

Pansy glared at him, but there was none of its usual venom in her gaze. She seemed entirely too concerned with dragging Malfoy out of the room, and Crabbe and Goyle followed them.

"Did you see his pale little chicken legs?" Seamus asked through his laughter.

"What about his two inch—"

"Settle down now," interjected Remus, stopping Ron from completing that sentence.

Try as he might, Remus couldn't get the class to settle down for the rest of the lesson. When it finally finished, he distinctly heard Harry telling Parvati how he'd vanished Draco's Shield Charm, and then vanished his robes. Remus would forever wish he hadn't witnessed seeing that, but he couldn't help thinking that Harry's thought process had been quite ingenious. Who would ever think of vanishing a Shield Charm?

"Harry," said Remus. "Could you stay behind for a moment?"

Remus used the distraction of the students filing out of the room to give him some time to think, and he came to a conclusion.

Harry stood at his desk, eyebrow raised.

"I hear you've had some trouble with your magic?" said Remus. At Harry's nod, he continued, "If you wish, I could help you regain your proficiency with a wand."

"Really?" Harry said eagerly.

Remus smiled. "Of course. You were a rather fearsome fighter before your accident, and with some practice, I'm sure you can be just as fierce once again."

Voldemort was gone, but that didn't mean Harry was safe. Remus knew very well that even now, somewhere outside and maybe inside Hogwarts' walls, someone was plotting Harry's death. Harry simply needed to know how to defend himself.

* * *

><p><strong>AN** _Any chance of a review? I'd love to hear some thoughts on this. _


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

After a week at Hogwarts, Harry came to the conclusion that school could be insanely boring at times. The castle itself was far from boring, of course, with its numerous secret passages and hidden rooms, but he hadn't had as much time as he wanted to explore them. As every professor had explained, N.E.W.T.s would be upon them before they knew it, which meant the seventh-years could usually be found buried beneath a mountain of tomes, dishevelled and cranky, but too busy to sleep.

Despite Harry's struggles with his wayward magic, he thought he did a remarkable job of keeping his head above water when so many of his classmates were drowning. It was why, when the majority of the seventh-years were holed up in the library on a Friday night, forgoing a break because of the sheer amount of homework they needed to complete, Harry opted not to join them. He had laughed at Ron when the redhead had gloomily traipsed after Hermione towards the library, but Harry's decision not to study left him bored when he discovered he didn't know anybody in the common room by name.

Idly scratching his chin, he surveyed the room from his position in the armchair closest to the fire (it had suddenly become cold over the last week). The sixth-year students were the lucky ones, living in the one year period between the most important exams. They were enjoying the start of the weekend, but Harry spotted a fifth-year who looked more relaxed than any of them. She was also staring at him. The moment of eye contact was apparently all the incentive the dark-haired girl needed, because she slipped away from her table of friends to saunter over to Harry, a very noticeable sway in her hips.

When she reached him she gave him a saucy smile. "Hi," she said throatily, perching on the arm of the squishy chair. "I'm Romilda. Romilda Vane."

Harry smothered his grin. His boredom would soon (with any luck) be a thing of the past, if the way she was looking at him was any indication.

"Tell me, Harry, why aren't you studying like the rest of your friends?" Romilda appeared genuinely interested, but she was speaking again before Harry could get a word in. "I bet it's because schoolwork's just holding you back. Is that it? I'd love to see what you can _really_ do with a wand … when you're not holding back." Her eyes were now very wide and gleaming. "Would you … would you show me?" she asked in a breathless whisper.

Harry's throat went dry. He couldn't believe his luck. He hadn't even said a word yet, and didn't think he'd need to utter a single syllable to get what he wanted. Romilda's eyes went very wide when Harry retrieved his wand with a flourish, a very extravagant one at that. He tapped it against her bare thigh. Nothing happened, and Romilda frowned, but then her eyes bulged and she gasped.

"Oh, fuck me," she said, shuddering.

"That's what I was planning on," said Harry, and before he knew what was happening, Romilda had pounced on him. Harry flailed around on the armchair, his mouth assaulted by Romilda's tongue, before the girl pulled away.

"Fuck," she gasped, her hands balled up in his shirt, "I never thought I'd get to do that. And now that I've had a taste, I want to devour the whole banquet!"

Harry couldn't help thinking Romilda's peculiar words would be Ron's idea of heaven: a girl who used food terminology when talking dirty. Of course, Ron would have to wait his turn. Harry stood up, holding Romilda to his chest, her feet dangling over his arm.

"Oh my," she said, giggling into her hand. "You're so strong!"

Delighted with himself, Harry crossed the common room, relishing in the jealous stares coming his way. He walked slower than he needed to just to make sure everyone saw him. Romilda's hands started wandering as Harry climbed the stairs, and by the time they reached the dormitory her hands had disappeared inside his trousers.

"You don't waste any time, do you?" Harry asked.

"I've waited far too long for this!" Romilda growled, squirming out of his arms to stand before him. She walked him backwards towards the bed, pushing him down onto the mattress and climbing onto him. "Now," she whispered into his ear, "tell me how much you want to fuck a naughty little witch like me? Tell me you want to fuck me!"

Harry decided there and then he much preferred being the one in control. Taking Romilda's hands, he flipped her over onto her back. "How about I make you beg for it?" he asked, and was rewarded with a frantic kiss.

Sometime later, Harry had allowed Romilda to resume control. He was enjoying letting her do all the work, and staring at her breasts as she moved. "I wish more girls were like you Romilda."

The bed stopped rocking with one last bang of the headboard against the wall.

"What?" Romilda asked, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"If every girl was like you the world would be a far better place," said Harry. "Straightforward, no hassle."

"Oh," said Romilda, her frown upturning. "You're so sweet, Harry."

"Aren't I just?"

* * *

><p>Ron Weasley's natural habitat was not the library. Spending hours poring over dusty old books, reading about how the difference in using a frog and a toad's eyes could completely alter the desired outcome of a potion, wasn't how he had envisioned spending his Friday evening. It wasn't all bad, though. Hermione's presence, without Harry there for once, was a chance for him to show her that he was doing his best to grow up.<p>

Over the last few weeks, Ron had come to a realisation: this was his last year at Hogwarts. It was his chance to make something of himself. After complaining all his life about his family's lack of wealth, he was determined not to continue the trend. While he wasn't expecting earth-shattering results in the end-of-year exams, he was sure he could scrape together decent grades.

It wasn't as though he was stupid. He was a little above average in most subjects without really trying, but people always ignored that. He wasn't as good at Harry at the practical side of magic, and nobody had ever beat Hermione in the theory, and that was the problem. Ron just couldn't hope to compare favourably to his two best friends – but he was constantly being compared to them by everyone else.

Ron put his quill down and massaged his aching hand. Finally, he had finished the Potions essay. He saw Hermione was still working, her face partially covered with her hair, the rest lit up with the glow of candlelight. Ron's stomach clenched painfully. He watched her for a while, wondering if she noticed him; she never did, of course. Once Hermione had put her mind to something, like homework, nothing short of Harry doing something monumentally stupid could distract her.

"There," said Hermione, at last. She sighed, looking extremely content. "All that's left now is Professor Flitwick's Charms essay, which I'll do tomorrow. Have you finished already?"

Ron ignored the surprise evident in her tone. "Yeah," he said, gesturing to the essay. "All finished. Would you mind checking it over for me?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I hope you're not expecting me to –"

"No, really, I just want you to make sure I haven't completely cocked it up," said Ron, before she could work up a rant.

"Oh," said Hermione. "Okay." She reached for his homework, and Ron spent the next ten minutes staring at her … again. He hated himself for how much time he spent simply gazing at her like a lovesick idiot. He couldn't stand it when he saw other people doing it. "There's a few spelling mistakes, but other than that …" Hermione beamed at him. "It looks fine to me."

"Thanks," said Ron, stuffing the essay into his bag, throwing his quill and inkpot in after it. "I'd offer to do the same for you, but you know …"

Once Hermione had put her things away carefully, unlike Ron had done, they set off for the common room. The corridors were dark, the wind was howling against the windows, and they walked along in a comfortable silence for a while.

"I can't help but notice," said Hermione, as they turned the last corner, "that you haven't complained once all evening."

Ron stuffed his hands into his pockets, trying to stop her seeing the sudden panic that had engulfed him. "Yeah," he said, chuckling hollowly. "I've got to do the work. There's no point in complaining about it."

Hermione's eyebrows crawled up her forehead and she paused mid-step. "Did I just hear you correctly? Is Ronald Bilius Weasley finally maturing?"

"It had to happen sometime," said Ron, frowning at her use of his middle name. What had his mother been thinking?

"I suppose so," said Hermione, laughing disbelievingly. "I'm proud of you, Ron. It's nice to see you trying for once."

Ron shrugged it off like it was nothing, even though he was so happy he felt like he could play the next Quidditch match without a broomstick. As they neared the Gryffindor common room, they heard voices from a nearby abandoned classroom. Ron thought nothing of it initially. It wasn't unusual for students to hang out in rooms that weren't in use. Then he recognised one of the voices. Or, more specifically, he recognised the throaty moan emanating from behind the door. When you'd heard that moan every night for the past week or so, it was hard to forget.

"That's Parvati," muttered Ron, making a face. "Don't those two ever stop?"

Hermione eyed the closed door of the classroom in disgust. Whether it was because of the act taking place or because of _where_ it was taking place wasn't clear, but Ron refrained from asking. "Come on," he said, nudging Hermione towards the common room. "Let's leave them to it."

The common room was alive with chattering students, many of whom Ron suspected were drunk. One boy was passed out face first on the back of a sofa; another was staggering up the girls' staircase only to slide back down, and then repeat it over again.

"I'm going to bed," declared Hermione, who for once turned a blind eye to the rule-breaking happening under her nose. She stood on tiptoes, kissed Ron on the cheek, and then marched up the staircase, sending a filthy look over her shoulder at the boy slouched at the bottom of the stairs.

Biting back a sigh, Ron climbed the boys' staircase. He would have preferred more time in Hermione's company, but would take what he could get. Entering the dormitory, he felt a sudden onslaught of déjà vu. After allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark, he took in the full sight, and realised it wasn't like the time he had walked in on Harry and Parvati. For one thing, it wasn't a nude Parvati's legs wrapped around Harry this time; it was a naked Romilda Vane. The worst part was –

"Oi! That's my bed!" Ron thundered in sudden realisation.

Romilda squeaked in surprise, and toppled off the bed out of sight. Harry was left completely exposed and covered in sweat, although he didn't look concerned in the slightest. He was laying back, hands behind his head, a certain part of his body saluting Ron.

"Fucking hell, Harry," said Ron, shielding his eyes from seeing something he'd never wanted to see, but had seen numerous times in the last week. "Did you have to use my bed? Your own is right next to mine!"

Harry looked left and right. "Oh yeah, would you look at that?" He laughed. "In all the excitement I didn't realise."

Romilda poked her head over the side of the bed, cheeks flaming. She, unlike Harry, looked apologetic. She had also somehow managed to get dressed. "I think I'll just … go," she said, and sprinted out of the dormitory.

"Hang on a minute," said Ron, frowning in thought as the door swung closed. "I thought you were with Parvati?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" said Harry, sighing. "We're not exclusive."

"No, I know that, I meant right this moment," explained Ron. "On my way back to the common room, I heard her in an abandoned classroom. She was … uh, she was moaning. You know, like she does when you're … well." Ron made a face.

"Oh," said Harry, looking taken aback.

"You okay, mate?"

"Okay? I'm more than okay! This is awesome!" Harry jumped out of bed, forcing Ron to redirect his hands to shield his eyes. "Do you know what this means?"

"That you're not exclusive?"

"Well, yeah, but she won't be angry at me!" Harry looked to be on the verge of crying in happiness. "You know what girls can be like. They say one thing, but when you actually call them out on it they change their minds! Ha!"

Ron had experienced exactly what Harry was talking about, but still couldn't help wondering how long it would be until it all blew up in his face. "Are you saying you don't mind Parvati being with some other guy?" he asked, delicately.

"Why would I be?" Harry asked, appearing genuinely interested. "Who else could compare to this?" He gestured to his currently naked state, as though he was Merlin's gift to women. Ron hadn't spent a lot of time looking at the male form, but he didn't think Harry was particularly impressive. If anything, he was a bit on the weedy side.

"You know," said Ron, deciding to humour him, "she might have been with another girl. If you're that good in bed, I mean, she'd have to turn to girls."

It was evidently the wrong thing to say: Harry's eyes lit up and he started frantically scrambling around for his discarded clothes. "I've got to go see her," he said, still pulling on his shoes when he left the room. "Later, Weasley!"

Ron turned to his defiled bed and forced the bile back down his throat. He was sure he spotted a few stains, and the wet patch was gleaming in the moonlight. Looking over his shoulder, satisfied he wouldn't be disturbed, he hurriedly switched his sheets with Dean's.

"That's what you get for fucking my sister," Ron said, sighing deeply into his pillow.

* * *

><p>Try as he might, Harry didn't manage to find Parvati that night. He'd looked in a number of the abandoned classrooms they'd recently gone to, as well as their favourite broom cupboard, but she was nowhere to be found.<p>

It was only later on that night, when he was struggling to get to sleep, that he realised there was a special map in his trunk. How could he have forgotten? Ron had told him just the other day what is was, how it worked, and now was Harry's chance to use it.

Harry's eyes snapped open in the dark. The map was out of his trunk and in his hands in seconds. He had also retrieved his invisibility cloak, and he put the silencing charm over himself in preparation. Whispering the password and lighting the tip of his wand, he bent low over the map. He sought out Parvati, finding her in bed, presumably asleep.

It was no use trying to reach her, as Harry had found out. There was simply no way into the girls' dormitory. He had tried running as fast as he could up the staircase, managing to reach the last step, but that was as far as he'd gotten. The next step had been attempting to fly, but the broomstick had hit an invisible barrier, blocking entry to the stairs. Harry had taken his Firebolt outside, but found he couldn't open the window. Parvati had even tried helping him, opening the window from the inside, but another invisible barrier had stopped him.

Feeling a tad disappointed, Harry was about to close the map when a moving dot in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Remarkably, it was the only student out of bed. A girl named Daphne Greengrass had just entered the prefects' bathroom.

A grin made its way onto Harry's face. He committed the password to the bathroom to memory, placed the map back inside the trunk, and slipped out of bed. It didn't take very long to reach the bathroom. His heart sped up as he stood outside the locked door. After he'd whispered the password, the door clicked open, and he held his breath as he peered inside.

The bathroom was quite dark, lit only by a few candles, and was emitting a strong scent of lavender. The bath itself was larger than Harry had ever seen; it looked big enough to fit the whole Quidditch team in, with room to spare. Harry stepped inside, being as quiet as he could as he shut and locked the door behind him. He was met with steam, making it quite hot and uncomfortable under the invisibility cloak.

For a moment, he wondered where Daphne was. But then he saw her, and was quite disappointed to see she was nearly hidden inside a mountain of multi-coloured bubbles. Her eyes were closed, and she had a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips. One of her legs was raised just below the water, her toes breaking the surface.

Harry had vaguely recognised her name, but now that he seen her he realised exactly who she was. Daphne was the blonde girl he'd seen sitting at the Slytherin table and in most of his classes. He had been warned to stay clear of Slytherin students by Ron, but Harry didn't particularly care when they looked like Daphne did.

Unable to resist, Harry walked further inside for a better view, and tripped over a stack of fluffy white towels. One moment he was watching the naked, pretty girl, and the next he was falling headfirst into the bath. It was deeper than he'd expected, and very warm. He emerged seconds later, spluttering in shock, when his eardrums were very nearly shattered by a high-pitched, terrified screaming.

"Potter!" Daphne bellowed, her eyes bulging. "What the fuck!"

"Ah," said Harry, unsure how he was going to get out of this mess. He didn't want her thinking he was a pervert, even if she would be correct, and so he tried to explain. "I was already here when you came in."

Thankfully, Daphne had stopped screaming. She was now looking at him in disbelief. "If that's true, why didn't you say anything the moment you saw me?"

"I was sleeping," said Harry.

Daphne goggled at him. "Sleeping? I would've seen you!"

"I was hidden," said Harry, raising his sodden invisibility cloak from the depths of the small swimming pool.

Daphne's eyes flashed. "Don't give me that shit, Potter. You've been spying on me." She must have realised what that meant because she crossed her arms over her chest, where a deep flush was creeping up towards her neck.

"It's not as if I could even see anything, anyway," said Harry, disappointed. "Not with all these bloody bubbles in the way."

"You _were_ spying on me," Daphne said triumphantly.

Harry realised she'd caught him out, and simply shrugged. "Can you blame me?"

"Yes!"

"Any chance you can keep this to yourself?" Harry asked mildly, wincing at the thought of Hermione finding out. He'd never hear the end of it.

A calculating look entered Daphne's eyes. "Why should I keep my silence? What's in it for me, Potter?"

"If you want, I'll strip down to my birthday suit as well?" Harry smiled cockily. "It would even the playing field, so to speak."

"I thought you couldn't see anything through the bubbles?"

"I can't," said Harry, peering at her through narrowed eyes. "Nope, there's nothing to be seen. But that doesn't mean it has to stay that way, does it?"

Daphne arched an eyebrow. "Seriously, Potter? You want to buy my silence by fucking me?"

"Yes," Harry said with a succinct nod.

"I see nothing in it for me," Daphne sniffed, and unintentionally removed her arms from her breasts, shocking Harry into a somewhat of a momentary stupor. "I tell you what – if you strip off for me, I'll inspect what you've got to offer. If I'm impressed, I might just agree to your offer."

"Would you be offended if I said I think I'm in love with you?" said Harry, reverently.

Daphne's nose wrinkled. "That's not the way to get into my knickers."

"You're not wearing any."

"I'm still offended."

"Then prepare to be dazzled – nay, shocked speechless!" Harry pushed himself out of the bath, ripped his robe away, and eventually stood there in all his naked glory. He contemplated striking a pose, but settled for crossing his arms over his stomach instead; after all, he didn't want Daphne to be too star struck around him.

"I find myself … unimpressed," Daphne said, although the intensity in her gaze spoke otherwise.

"What? You've got to be kidding me!"

Daphne raised herself out of the water. She stood there on the edge of the bath dripping wet, completely unabashed. Harry's mouth went dry, and then it felt like every last ounce of blood in his body rushed south.

"Now, that's far more impressive," Daphne said, licking her lips, her eyes fixed on his groin. She walked forward, agonisingly slowly, until she stood as close to him as possible without their bare skin touching. "Hmm – how much do you want it, Potter?"

Harry's eye twitched as he tried to hold her stare. "I'd sell my soul," he said, and at that moment he had no doubt that he would.

Daphne raised her hand, brushing her fingers over his stomach. She inched closer, so close that a part of him was only millimetres from touching her stomach. But then she stepped back, raised her head to put her nose in the air, and primly announced, "You know I'm not going to fuck you, don't you? I'm not that type of girl."

Harry felt like jumping into the bath and never resurfacing. He noticed Daphne was watching him carefully, waiting for a reaction. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing him beg – not yet, at least.

"Of course not," he said, shrugging like it was nothing. "I mean, a girl like you wouldn't dream of standing in front of a boy completely naked, would you?"

"I'd be ever so embarrassed," said Daphne, demurely. She had contorted her body to be as small as possible, making herself appear deeply shy. Harry marvelled at her acting skills.

"I suppose, then, that a girl like you would be completely opposed to having even a sip of alcohol?"

"It's the devil's water," said Daphne.

Harry removed a bottle of firewhisky from the folds of his robes. He kept a bottle there for emergencies, for times like these.

"Are you sure you don't want some?" asked Harry, sipping straight from the bottle.

Daphne dropped the act simply by holding out her hand. Harry passed her the bottle, and she took a long drink.

"So tell me," said Harry. "What's a good girl like you doing out of bed at three in the morning?"

"I couldn't sleep," said Daphne, lowering herself back into the water.

Harry grinned as he joined her in the bath, taking back his bottle. "I know a very good remedy for insomnia."

"Is that right?" Daphne laughed, making her boobs jiggle, which drew Harry's attention to them. "I suppose you're going to say sex?"

"Of course," said Harry.

"I suppose …" Daphne bit her lip. "I mean, I am very, very wide awake."

"I've never been more awake," Harry said.

"But I'm not really in the mood," Daphne announced, and then dunked her head under the water. She emerged right in front of Harry, draping her arms over his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist "You're poking me, Potter."

"I'm awfully sorry," said Harry. With Daphne in his arms, he moved over to the side of the bath to retrieve his wand. "You're not in the mood, you said?"

"Not in the slightest," said Daphne, although Harry was now fairly confident she was lying.

"In that case …" Harry flicked his wand, and then leaned back to watch the results of his non-verbal spell.

Daphne frowned. "What did you— Oh!" Her whole body stiffened against him, and then her head fell onto his shoulder as she thrashed about in his arms. "Fuck me, Potter."

"I didn't think you were in the mood?"

Daphne growled at him from deep in her throat. "If you don't stick that thing in me, I'll chop it off."

Harry promptly did what he was told.

* * *

><p>The first Hogsmeade visit of the year arrived earlier than usual. This was because more dates had been added to the calendar, owing to the fact imminent danger wasn't lurking around the corner in light of Voldemort's defeat. Students of age were also now allowed to visit the village on any weekend, something Harry had missed, but was planning on taking complete advantage of.<p>

The morning started off like any other. Ron had woken up early, checked to see Harry hadn't wandered off in the middle of the night again, and then, after his usual morning routine, went down to meet Hermione for breakfast.

"Harry's still sleeping?" asked Hermione, standing at the bottom of the stairs. "In his own bed, I mean?"

"Yeah," Ron told her.

Not very long ago Harry had caused a complete panic by going missing, only to eventually be discovered in the prefects' bathroom, curled up against a mountain of fluffy white towels and cuddling an empty bottle of firewhisky. Every morning since then Ron had checked on his best friend. Harry hadn't disappeared again since, but Ron couldn't help thinking it was only a matter of time before he did.

There was a buzz of excited conversation going around the Great Hall, most of it coming from the third-years. Apart from a few pureblood and half-blood students, most of them had never been to the village, and Ron envied them. While he still loved going to the village, it was mostly because it meant getting a break from schoolwork. Although his attitude was changing somewhat towards his grades, it didn't mean a short break wouldn't be a good thing.

"Is there anything you need to buy in the village?" Ron asked Hermione through a lingering yawn.

Hermione shook her head. "I always try to pack enough spares to last me through the year, and as this is the earliest we've ever visited Hogsmeade, there isn't anything I need." She plucked a piece of toast from the stack in the middle of the table. "You're not running short of stationary yet are you?"

"I need some new quills," said Ron, making a face. "Harry stole all the ones I bought in the summer. I walked into the dormitory the other day to see him throwing them at the wall."

"Why?" Hermione asked, looking confused.

"Homemade darts," said Ron, shaking his head. "He conjured a target and stuck it to the wall."

Hermione's eyebrows knitted together. "If he conjured a dartboard, why didn't he conjure darts to go with it?"

Ron opened his mouth to reply, then realised he didn't know. "That's a good question. Who knows why Harry does anything these days?"

Hermione patted his hand over the table, as she nibbled on her toast. "I'm not sure I'll ever understand him again."

"Although, I actually do know why he's trying to get us all to join him for a darts tournament tonight," said Ron, remembering the conversation they'd had a few nights ago. "He said he wants to create the coolest dormitory Hogwarts has ever seen. We've already got a pool table, and now a dartboard. He's planning on building a bar next; he's just trying to work out where it can go. I'm expecting him to throw me out just so he can create enough room." Ron wisely left out the part about a stripper pole. Harry had wondered aloud if Hermione would be interested in putting on a show for them.

"Do you know if he's coming to the village with us?" Hermione asked. "Or is he going with Parvati?"

"I dunno," said Ron, shrugging. "I haven't seen Parvati up in our room for a while. And every time I've asked Harry what he's doing today, he's just laughed and wandered off, muttering about needing to take more baths." Ron noticed Parvati walking into the Hall, Lavender by her side. They were followed by Seamus and Dean.

Hermione followed where Ron was looking. "Harry still hasn't mentioned her to you?" she asked. "Nothing at all?"

"Nope," said Ron, piling bacon and eggs onto his plate. Hermione was referring to the night they had overheard Parvati in an abandoned classroom. Harry hadn't spoken a word about it since that night, and he and Parvati hadn't been seen together since. "Every time I ask him, he starts complaining that his dreams of a threesome are over."

Ron sipped his pumpkin juice, pondering. Harry and Parvati were acting perfectly normal every time they saw each other, whether in class or the common room, which made it completely abnormal. They hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other for a week, or tongues out of each other's mouths, much to the disgust of all the other students – so what had changed? Ron would normally put it down to the fact that they had both slept with other people, but that wasn't the case with those two. They had wanted to be able to see other people.

The man himself chose that moment to saunter into the Hall. As it was a weekend, Harry wasn't wearing the school uniform; instead, he had opted for a dirty leather jacket that looked older than him. Ron a sneaking suspicion it was older than Harry, because Ron was pretty sure he had seen Sirius wearing it a few years ago.

"Good morning," said Harry brightly, flopping onto the bench next to Hermione.

"Any particular reason you're in such a good mood?" asked Hermione, eyeing him warily.

"It's a beautiful day, Hermione," Harry said, grinning from ear to ear. He poured himself a cup of coffee, and then started making a sandwich.

"Come on, mate," said Ron, trying not to think too negatively. "You can tell us."

"If you must know, I've got a date," Harry told them smugly.

Ron's stomach dropped. He wasn't too sure he liked the smile that appeared on Harry's face. He was filled with a dread similar to the time he heard Ginny had been taken down to the Chamber of Secrets. Normally, Harry was only too happy to brag about girls – so why hadn't he about his date?

"Who is she, then?" asked Hermione, looking as worried as Ron.

"That," said Harry, pointing his half-eaten sandwich at them, "would be telling."

"Give us something, Harry," said Ron, hoping Harry's vanity would win out over his sudden secrecy.

"If you insist," said Harry, leaning forward. "Put it this way, Ron: if you want your innocent eyes to stay that way, I suggest you find somewhere else to sleep tonight."

Ron rolled his (innocent) eyes. "I suppose she won't be able to resist your roguish good looks, natural charm, and humungous coc—"

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, scarlet-faced. "Harry, please just tell us who it is."

"Fine! It's Ginny!"

"What!" Ron gasped.

Harry cackled, but then his eyes locked on to something across the Hall. "Here she comes now," he said, sounding almost as if he was in love. Then again, Harry sounded like that when talking building his bar, the new porn magazine he'd purchased by owl order, and the picture of Seamus's mother he'd found.

Ron swung around on the bench, but could only see Daphne Greengrass walking towards them. His stomach dropped for the second time in the space of a few minutes. Then, Daphne stopped at their table, and Ron felt his heart collide with his voice box and become lodged in his throat. Daphne looked like one of those girls in Harry's new porn magazine: blonde, tanned, too beautiful to simply be called pretty, and she knew she had _it, _whatever _it_ actually was. She smiled a dazzling smile, showing off perfect white teeth, and spoke in a voice that could make any man do her bidding.

"I've booked us a table in a restaurant just off the main street," she said to Harry. "It's far too expensive for most students, so we should be out of sight from prying eyes. I assume you can pay for it?"

"It's funny you should ask that," said Harry, eyes twinkling. "I received a letter just the other day, from the manager of the restaurant, no less. He said it would be his honour for me to grace his restaurant with my presence, and we would dine for free."

"I suddenly feel that you would be a very useful person to know," said Daphne, linking her arm with Harry's and walking out of the Great Hall, leaving Ron and Hermione to stare at their backs.

Ron turned to Hermione in disbelief. "Do you have any idea how expensive that place can be? Most students don't even know about it, and he's eating there for free!"

"Can we just go a day without Harry baffling us somehow?" pleaded Hermione. "You and I can go in to the village and enjoy ourselves without worrying about what he's going to do or say next. He's a big boy; he can handle himself."

The visit to the village started off normally. The first stop was to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop to restock Ron's quills, and while they were there Hermione couldn't resist purchasing a new phoenix feather quill, despite its ludicrous price. Afterwards, Ron couldn't say no to a quick visit to Honeydukes Sweetshop, where he bought enough boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans to last until the next visit. Unsurprisingly, Hermione didn't spend a Knut in the sweetshop. From there, they decided to wander around the village to make the most of the dry (if slightly chilly) weather. Ron was devastated to see Zonko's Joke Shop had closed.

"Don't worry," said Hermione in exasperation, pointing towards a notice on the boarded up front door. She peered closer and read, "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is proud to announce the grand opening of our Hogsmeade branch is scheduled for November 23, midday. By happy coincidence, Hogwarts students will be visiting the village that weekend. One free item per student. All welcome, except Draco Malfoy."

"Knowing those two, they'll make me pay for the free item," said Ron glumly.

"Shall we go to The Three Broomsticks, then?" asked Hermione, appearing not to hear him.

They fell in to step and headed back down the village, towards the nicer of the two pubs in the village. Just as they passed an alleyway, Harry came bolting of it, naked from the waist up and holding his trousers with his hands to stop them from falling down. A second later Daphne followed him; her feet were bare, her cheeks a furious red, and her hair, usually without a strand out of place, now resembled something closer to Harry's. Despite their state of undress, they were both laughing their heads off.

Ron wished he could say he hadn't expected to see Harry naked today; sadly, it was becoming a disturbingly common occurrence.

"Can't speak now!" Harry called over his shoulder as he grabbed Daphne's hand, while still running. "I'll explain everything later!"

A man in formal robes came running out of the alley, panting heavily. "You!" he said, pointing a trembling finger at Ron. "Have you seen Potter?"

"No," said Ron instantly.

"May I ask why you're looking for him?" asked Hermione delicately, her voice several notches higher than usual.

The man grimaced. "I caught the little git in the bathroom with his date," he growled, and seemed particularly green in the face when he added, "I've never seen such a pale arse."

Ron felt he could sympathise.

"If we see him, would you like us to give him a message?" asked Hermione.

"Tell him if he ever sets foot in my restaurant again, Lord Voldemort's worst spell will feel like a tickle compared to what I'll do to him!" thundered the restaurant owner, and then he turned and stormed back down the alley.

"He was probably the nicest guy you could ever hope to meet," said Ron, sighing. "And then he met Harry."


End file.
